


Stand by me

by nightxshade



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sleeping Beauty AU, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-05-07 22:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 70,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14680910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightxshade/pseuds/nightxshade
Summary: Ignis Scientia never in his sixteen years and nine months on Eos had a thought about having children. Mind you, he never thought about marrying either. He came to terms with the fact a long time ago, that his life will be dedicated to teaching and aiding the young prince of Lucis to his best abilities until the day one of them died.A very demanding way of living, but Ignis always thought, that he had, at the end of it all, a place in the world and a purpose. He had certainty.Well, certainty never-ever in his wildest dreams featured a scenario where his King, out of options, thrusted the three-months old Noctis in Ignis’ arms with the words: ‘You must hide him!’.And yet, this is exactly what just happened……or The Sleeping Beauty AU that only my stupid sister asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timothy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timothy/gifts), [amiyade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiyade/gifts).



> What to do when a video game you dearly love with all the remaining bits of your heart and would buy again and again, will most probably be the cause of you dying of high blood pressure? The obvious answer is; you can stop guessing now: plan out a 50+ chapter fix it fanfiction! Even though you never wrote anything before your whole life. And no, Viewfinder one-shots from 2005 do not count…  
> This started out as not really well-thought out jest this February. My sister was banging on about never being able to read this awesome Sleeping Beauty AU fix-it with babies and Gladnis and whatnot, that she cooked up, and I quote: 'I mean how awesome and fitting that would be OMFG Imma die!!'.  
> I wrote 3000 words, dangling it in front of her. Then took it away.Then it grew and grew, so I guess, joke’s on me.  
> Long story short, welcome to this slow-burning, feels-filled, mother of all fix-it AUs, where everybody gets what they deserve and the Astrals can go and get stuffed. Let’s have some fun!
> 
> Oh, and Happy Treaty Signing Day!  
> …I know, too soon…
> 
> P.S.: I would like to publicly announce my never ending love and gratitude for amiyade, who not only bears with me and my hours-long rants, but also very patiently beta-reads my work. Thank you!

_“In a faraway land, long ago, lived a King and his fair Queen. Many years had they longed for a child and finally, their wish was granted. Their son was born. Then a great holiday was proclaimed throughout the kingdom, so that all of high or low estate might pay homage to the infant prince. And our story begins on that most joyful day.”_

If this would be inane fairy-tale, with humorous ups and downs, evil sorceresses and an absolutely illogical, but never the less happy ending, it would definitely start like that. Truth be told, it is not.

Our scene is set in the not so faraway kingdom of Lucis, where Regis, the 113rd monarch of the Lucis Caelum line inherited the throne after the tragic passing of King Mors. Protecting the country with help of the Crystal granted by the Astrals is what the Lucis Caelums are born to do.

They took up residence in the seat of power, the Citadel, many a year ago; a landmark in the middle of the marvellous Crown City: Insomnia. The grand capital was a bustling metropolis without a peer; its skyscrapers high, its streets busy, the unique architecture outstanding in the whole kingdom.

King Regis ruled side by side with his childhood friend and beloved wife, Aulea. Their marriage was joyful, although they have not been blessed with an heir in the four years of their marriage. But one Summer day, the king’s and queen’s wish came true: Aulea gave birth to a son and heir apparent to the throne of Lucis.

Their delight was short-lived, however as the queen passed away some days after childbirth. Insomnia mourned the loss of their beloved monarch, but their sadness was nothing compared to the pain Regis was feeling.

Weeks passed in silent solitude; but life waits for no man and thus, Regis returned to reigning, his late father’s words echoing in his mind. “A king pushes onward always”. A heavy phrase to weigh down any man, but the truth of it spurred Regis on. He had a sworn duty. He made an oath to protect the kingdom and her people, and he was to live by that promise until the moment of his final breath.

And so, late Autumn came and everything went back to the way it was. The council meetings and other kingly duties resumed. The date for the young prince’s first official appearance was set, so that all of Insomnia and the Kingdom of Lucis could pay homage to their future monarch.

It was not the most joyful of days, on the contrary. Nevertheless, our story began on that fateful afternoon.

The Citadel was in an uproar; all available personnel rushing about and making preparations. The spacious Royal Garden was decorated in the most lavish way possible, chairs being set up for the attending council members and other nobility. Well, garden might not be the right word for the collection of Lucian flora enclosed by floor-to-ceiling windows on the ground level. By design, it resembled a glorified greenhouse more, but not even this could dull the overall impact of the majestic trees and breath-taking flowers.

Luscious bouquets of flowers and garlands adorned the walls and windows. A few cameramen were puttering about on the side-lines, arranging the set-up so that all of Insomnia could observe the ceremony on the screens out in the streets.

Clarus Amicitia looked over the busy scene. If it were up to him, he would have shielded his friend from all this courtly nonsense and unnecessary pageantry. Sadly, as the king’s Shield, he had no say in this. It was up to the king, and Regis would rather suffer, then shirk from his obligations. So here he was, standing beside the azaleas by the garden path, overlooking the preparations and organising the Crownsguard.

He checked the security measures at least a hundred times since morning; if the only thing he could do to help his friend during all this was to absolutely make sure, that the ceremony went down without a hitch, then that’s what he would do.

Clarus was in the middle of checking the garden layout for any missed weak points, when Gladiolus walked up to him, greeting him with a salute, like any other member of the Crownsguard would. Although his son was not yet a full-fledged member of the force until he turned eighteen, he was soon to become Shield to the Crown Prince.

‘Everything all right, Gladiolus?’

‘Yes, Dad, of course…’ Gladio affirmed, but Clarus could see that he was nervous. No attentive father would misread that body language; it was oddly nostalgic, seeing his boy like this. Took him right back when Gladiolus was small and tried to be tough. He hummed back in agreement.

‘So… how are the preparations going?’

‘All checkpoints are secured and we have two back-up plans, should anything go wrong. The only thing left for me to do is to stand beside Regis for the upcoming…’ Clarus checked his watch, ‘…ten hours or so. Metaphorically and literally speaking. I hope you memorised your oath, son?’

‘Dad! This is probably the biggest day of my life! Of course I did!’ Gladio huffed.

‘Good boy!’ Clarus lifted his hand, to ruffle his son’s hair –old habits die hard, apparently– but shifted midway and clapped Gladio on the shoulder. He wasn’t really keen on another tirade would he happen to mess up his son’s perfectly gelled-up bangs. Once was enough...

‘I hope you didn’t forget our dinner plans after the ceremony?’

‘No, Sir!’ Gladio answered, mock standing to attention. ‘You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world!’

‘Very well. I have to be on my way; behave yourself, son!’

Gladio only smiled back at him, saluting again before marching off. Clarus watched his son go, the memory of his wife flittering through his thoughts. How he wished she could have lived to see this day. But as suddenly as this feeling got hold of him, it faded just as fast. Aurinia would not stand for this kind of sentimentality.

‘What’s done, is done,’ she would say… and maybe clock him in the head for good measure. A hint of a smile danced around his lips, before he schooled his features. The leader of the Crownsguard had to emit a certain aura, and that was not one of a reminiscing husband.

The lift-ride up to the king’s private quarters took ages, as usual. Clarus was either bored to tears while waiting to reach the right floor or was battling with unwelcome thoughts. He really should start keeping some reports in his coat, or any other paperwork to keep himself occupied. Maybe a book? His musings got interrupted by a ping.

Clarus righted his ceremonial clothes while striding through the antechamber with quick steps (not that there was even a fold out of order, mind you), and knocked on Regis’ door. He didn’t have to wait long for his friend’s voice to invite him in.

The king paced the middle of the room, the prince seemingly asleep in his arms.

‘I can’t do this, Clarus!’ Regis exclaimed, looking his friend dead in the eyes.

‘Your Majesty…?’ Clarus trailed off, waiting for a clarification.

‘Oh, don’t even start with this royal crap, please. I need my friend today.’

Clarus smiled. Well, then.

‘As your friend, I have told you a thousand times: you are not obligated to go through with this! Your subjects would have perfectly understood, if they had to wait another year to see their Crown Prince.’ Clarus scratched his short shorn hair. ‘And honestly, nobody gives a toss about old traditions these days, you could have just as well printed a stupid photo in the papers!’

‘I know!’ Regis absentmindedly rocked his baby boy. ‘I know, but I wanted to do it as planned. I don’t think this will be any easier if I wait…’ he absentmindedly noted, staring at his son.

‘I can’t but think that she should be here… Aulea should be…’

Clarus didn’t know which one made his chest hurt with a horrid pang; his best friend’s voice faltering at the end of that sentence or the memory of her. She had known Regis’ wife for quite a few years and he treasured her dearly. The loss was not as ghastly, as what his liege must be feeling, but it was there none the less. He lost a good friend, too.

‘She would be so proud of you. You know it.’

Regis made that weird motion one makes, when they try to simultaneously nod and shake their head. Clarus could see even from this distance, that his eyes were brimming with tears he won’t allow himself to shed.

The king turned around and placed the sleeping prince in the crib standing in a secluded part of the chamber. He stood there for a while, watching the sleeping face of his son. None of the men said anything, but then Regis cleared his throat and turned back around.

‘Are the preparations going in order?’

‘Yes, yes; I’ve checked everything myself. All should be well. I’ve shortened your appearance with Noctis to the absolute bare minimum. You’ll be back in your chambers before you know it.’

Regis clapped him on the shoulder. He tried to put in that one gesture and the soft smile glinting in his tired eyes how thankful he felt.

‘We will get over this. I shall stay by your side,’ Clarus reassured him, reciprocating the gesture. ‘And, you know, I still have that bottle of whiskey from Accordo…’

When was the last time they could have a few drinks’ time just to themselves…? It seemed like ages ago and Clarus really hoped that his idiotic eyebrow wiggle accompanying the invitation would bring a slight smile to Regis’ face and, preferably a positive answer to his lips. But his king was hesitating.

‘Or, you know, if you are not too tired, you could come with me and the kids. Dinner,’ he clarified. ‘Just us; we could even order in, if you want to stay close to Noctis.’

‘I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family time,’ Regis declined, but Clarus could see how thankful he looked hearing the invitation.

‘Not to sound too untoward, Regis, but… you are family to me,’ he frowned.

Regis looked like he was going to cry.

‘I know,’ he whispered, then cleared his throat. ‘I’ll let you have your fun this time, but I’m cashing in on that drink before the week’s out!’

‘You have yourself a deal, my friend!’ Clarus grinned.

 

Gladio was idly observing the decorating servants around the garden, when he heard a voice he really hoped would be spared from.

‘Gladiolus!’ Ignis Scientia, glorified babysitter-to-be to the prince, was closing in on him with measured strides. ‘If I may have a moment, please!’

Gladio groaned inwardly. It wasn’t like he had a specific problem with the adviser; they have known each other for a few years, but barely ever met outside of work. Not that they met that much _at work_. Of course there was the random occasion they sparred together during Crownsguard training, or a few meetings where both of them had to be present, but their personal interactions have been very limited up to this point.

Which, probably won’t change in the near future, as they really had nothing to do with each other. At least not until the prince was a few years older.  Gladio was hoping for university age-old. Nothing personal, but Scientia looked very much all business and no fun, and that did not really float with the future Shield.

‘Sure, what can I do you for?’ he asked, pasting a smile on his face, while watching as Ignis’ face twitched.

‘I was asked by Lord Amicitia to deliver the print-outs about today’s procedures. I’ve marked off our places during the prince’s presentation,’ he delicately pointed at one of the papers detailing the structure of the garden. ‘You won’t have anything to do until your official inauguration of course.’

‘And you?’          

‘I’m merely the prince’s Chamberlain, there is no traditional ceremony,’ Ignis answered matter-of-factly, while instinctively righting his glasses. ‘The king, of course, can make an official statement about the identity of the adviser, if he wishes so, but I have already signed the necessary paperwork the day the prince was born. My appearance today is purely a formality.’

Gladio hummed.

‘So, you’re just gonna… what, stand around?’

‘I am going to observe the celebrations; just like everyone else,’ Ignis answered coolly, but Gladio noted a slight irritation. Well, this chat quickly died a gruesomely cold death, he thought.

‘Cool…’ he mumbled, nodding in a very awkward fashion and pursing his lips at the adviser. They stood there for a few uncomfortable seconds, before Ignis pushed the papers in Gladio’s hand.

‘Study these carefully, please, we don’t want any blunders today,’ he said, as if Gladio was some idiot, who would mess things up, and turned on his heels. ‘I shall see you at the ceremony, Gladiolus!’

Gladio just stared after the chamberlain in sheer disbelief. What a prick, he thought.

Ignis went back to oversee the proceedings. Everything had to be absolutely perfect; the decorations, the seating… Oh, he had to inspect the delicacies ordered for the occasion. The royal caterers were known for doing their job without a fault, still, Ignis could not shake the urge to check over every miniscule thing on his list. After all, this was the first bigger event assigned to him as Chamberlain and he refused to fail.

So naturally he spent his day flitting about the Citadel gardens, until Lord Amicitia asked him to deliver the print-outs, that is. He simply could not deny this request.

Thank the Six he left Gladiolus for last. He had nothing against the future Shield, the scant number of their interactions never gave Ignis any reason to see fault in the man, nor did Gladiolus’ behaviour towards Ignis. He was always civil, and did not favour dallying about, which Ignis appreciated. But something still irked him whenever they had to communicate. He could not put his finger on it, but it was not the time to dwell on matters like these.

Or on how patronising Ignis must have sounded when he insinuated that Gladiolus would mess up anything. Ignis was very well aware, that Amicitia was not an idiot; but then whatever made him say that? Maybe the nerves. This ceremony had to be something the court would talk about for years to come. It was only natural he was agitated.

(Ignis did not know at the time how right he was. People did talk about the prince’s celebration party for many-many years. Only, it was not because of the delicate canapés, or the majestic flower centrepieces.)

With a sigh, he took up his clipboard and strode off in the direction of the buffet tables.

Regis could hear the murmuring of the crowd behind the garden doors. There were still some minutes until the ceremony, but he just couldn’t sit still anymore. Not that standing idly in the doorway proved any better. He wanted this to be over with, and be back in the safety of his own quarters with his son.

Maybe he should have postponed this whole affair, maybe he should have listened to Clarus, maybe–

A hand firmly clapped his shoulder.

‘You can do this! Give this thing an hour, and after that, I promise you, you’ll be back in your rooms. The Council can entertain the visiting noblemen and other dignitaries for the rest of the evening.’

‘Thank you,’ Regis simply answered, his smile looking a bit stronger.

‘You know; I still think that Nox Aeterna is a ridiculous name…’ Clarus risked a cheeky grin.

‘Nothing ridiculous about tradition–’

‘Tradition yes, I know. Noctis sounds so much nicer…’

‘It does, doesn’t it…’

Noctis was the name Aulea wanted for their child. Or Aurora, if they had a baby girl. Regis was secretly happy it was a boy. He never really cared for that name. Another thing he never could do was say no to his wife.

 They heard the herald’s voice filtering thinly through the closed doors, welcoming everyone to “this joyous occasion” and announcing the King’s arrival.

‘Forever by your side, Your Majesty! Shall we?’

Regis nodded. Clarus pushed the doors open.

 Regis stepped up on the podium, stopping in the centre, Clarus shadowing his every step. There was an over-decorated crib, complete with a baldachin and something akin his original throne was set up for him, would he wish to sit down. He could feel his Shield just behind himself, radiating a calming heat, that gave Regis enough energy to power through this whole affair. So he kept on standing.

Noctis was sleeping soundly, the small head safely pillowed on his father’s shoulder, face neatly tucked away from the world. The king looked over the assembled guests, all of them looking expectantly at their monarch. Regis took a deep breath. He could do this.

‘Citizens of Insomnia! People of the Kingdom of Lucis! It is with varied feelings, that I address you on this day. There is a great happiness in my heart, for today we gathered here to celebrate my son.’

Regis felt his voice break and could feel Clarus move involuntary closer, if just a tad.

‘But I cannot help it, and feel a resounding sadness in my soul as my dearest queen, my darling Aulea did not live to see this day to stand with us all. Would she be here– she would want this to be an occasion remembered fondly by all.

‘There might come mournful times in all our lives, but my queen always insisted that life itself was intended to be enjoyed and lived to its fullest. So with these parting thoughts do I implore you to relish in today’s festivities and keep your future king in your heart, as you did your late queen. Lucians, may I present you the crown prince: Nox Aeterna Lucis Caelum!’

The room was engulfed in a storm of clapping, as soon as the king softly changed his grip, revealing the sleeping baby to the gathering nobility and busy cameramen. The prince’s face scrunched up, as if highly offended by anybody daring to disturb his sleep, but his features calmed and he kept on slumbering. The herald thankfully appeared before the stage seconds later, offering up the choice to the assembled nobility to have a look at the crown prince and also relay their congratulations to King Regis.

Clarus touched him lightly on the forearm, glancing quickly in the direction of the cot. Regis sat himself down, as soon as his son was safely tucked away in the silken bedding. It really seemed like the boy could sleep through an earthquake. Regis sighed; well, at least one of them was spared of suffering this through awake.

 

Clarus took up position on his King’s right side and he could see Cor Leonis from the corner of his eyes, stepping up beside the sleeping prince. A perfunctory glance over the garden showed him that his Crownguards were all in position, ready to jump at the merest sight of trouble.

But nothing happened; the nobility, as befitting their status, waited in an orderly manner to greet the monarch and perhaps catch a glimpse of the young prince. Insomnia’s leading families all queued up to either pass on a few well-meant words, or, Clarus was sure, to try and weasel their way into the king’s inner circle with a short, but smarmy speech. _Well, good luck with that_ , he thought.

Some of the nobles started mingling, talking in hushed whispers and helping themselves to the overpriced refreshments laid out on long tables around the garden. He could see the Scientia boy standing to the side, back ramrod straight and his face emotionless in its usual manner. His son, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling with waiting around. Not that a casual observer would notice that, no. He was too well trained to fidget, but Clarus had more than ample time to figure out his own son’s tells. Still, he was doing admirably and Clarus could not have been any prouder.

Looking over the rest of the garden he noticed his daughter, Iris, talking excitedly to their poor retainer. Not that Jared ever had a problem of keeping up with her. Some upcoming nobles’ sickeningly sweet call of “Your Majesty!” made him zone back in on the proceedings.

Regis looked, as he always did on these events, smiling politely, nodding when appropriate. His face never gave away anything he didn’t want to, but the minute twitch of his fingers has clearly shown Clarus, that he was nearing the end of his tether. He discreetly signalled the herald.

‘Respected Ladies and Lords of the court!’ The herald stepped in front of the podium, his voice booming through the lush royal gardens. ‘On His Majesty’s behalf, I implore you to return to your seats, if you may. Although the pleasure of finally seeing our beloved Crown Prince has already been granted to us most graciously, there is still the matter of swearing in his Shield.’

Clarus tried really hard, not to roll his eyes. All these years, and he still did not care much for these pompous speeches. He usually distinguished himself, when communicating with the Council, or members of the court, but all who really knew him were aware that elaborate and fanciful speeches were not in his nature. He was straightforward, but never rude– with his friends, with his guards and his king.

‘Without further ado, let me present you the Shield to His Majesty, Regis Lucis Caelum, the good Lord Clarus Amicitia!’ declared the herald, vanishing into the background, as the Shield stepped forward.

Oh, Astrals, Clarus thought _,_ let’s get this over with quickly.

‘Ladies and Gentleman! A pleasure to have you all here on this memorable day! You must all know, I’m not a man for idling or speeches, so please forgive my curtness. Being the King’s Shield is a lifelong duty, but even more so, it has always been a great honour for me and my family. A Shield must not only stand by the side of his King in times of great need and peril. A Shield has to be there to support him through the mundane as well. You might think the royal Shields to be bodyguards or advisers, but what we must always strive to be, is brothers-in-arms, loyal till death. With these words offered to the next Shield in line, please welcome my son: Gladiolus Amicitia!’

Quite a few things happened right in that moment.

The huge double doors, leading out of the garden, banged open with an unnatural sound, so loud, even the windowpanes shook. Gladio, on pure reflex most likely, stepped half in front of Ignis. Clarus was back by Regis’ side in the blink of an eye and Cor was instinctively gripping the katana by his side. Ignis could see all the other Crownguards tense up, ready to jump at any sign of danger. All eyes were glued to the main door and nobody even seemed to breathe.

A lone, weirdly dressed figure sauntered down the aisle, the face shadowed under the brim of a hat. The man finally looked up, one hand clinging to his black fedora, eyes seemingly trained on the king. His long dark grey coat swishing around was the only audible noise in the room as he treaded up to the podium with heavy steps.

Ignis thought, by looks alone, this man must be some kind of jester; the ornate coat, the striped trousers, his red scarf, all that frill and decoration! Most of all that ridiculous looking, black, wing-like accessory he seemed to be wearing on his left arm; surely no sane man would dress like this, let alone appear before the King of Lucis in such a rude manner.

But, Ignis was no fool to make assumptions on looks alone and his instincts told him that the mysterious stranger was definitely a risk and not to be taken lightly. Gladio, still standing in front of Ignis, seemed to share his concern, judging by the tense line of his back.

 ‘Hello there! Hello!’ the stranger bellowed. ‘Good day to you! Well, quite a glittering assemblage, King Regis. Royalty, nobility,’ the man looked at one of the cameras, ‘even the gentry is let in on this marvellous occasion.’

‘Is Niflheim so void of envoys, that it needs to send their Chancellor to our modest kingdom?’

‘It is an honour to be recognised by the great King Regis, yet, permit me to stand on ceremony and introduce myself none the less! Ardyn Izunia, Chancellor of Niflheim. At your humble service!’ the man lifted his fedora and bowed with a flourish. Regis didn’t seem to be moved at all by the man’s unnecessary theatrics, as he was staring at the newcomer with the same stern look.

‘What brings Your Excellency to the Crown City?’ the king asked.

‘Why, this is a most auspicious day, of course! I could not miss out on imparting His Radiance’s heartfelt congratulations on to Your Majesty and the young Crown Prince, as a gesture of Imperial good-will,’ the Chancellor finished. He reached the podium and put one heavy-soled boot up on its steps.

All the Crownsguards present started to move in unison, but a simple lift of Regis’ hand halted them. Ardyn looked over the king and his entourage with a smirk.

‘We wish the prince grows in grace and beauty, beloved by all who know him!’ he bowed again making to leave. Then stopped, lifting one finger, as if just remembering something.

‘How foolish of me to forget, there is a gift, of course, that I shall bestow on the child. Courtesy of the Niflheim Empire.’

The Chancellor produced an ornate flask; whatever it contained swirled around in all manners of purple and sparkling behind the intricate glasswork.

‘It really is nought but a simple contribution to the grand history of the blood royal of Lucis. May the beloved prince have the most extraordinary life, but before the sun sets on his sixteenth birthday, may he die by touching the same Crystal he should protect.’

Regis gripped the arms of his makeshift throne, moving to get up. Both his loyal bodyguards moved as one on the Chancellor, swords drawn. But instead of defending himself in any way, Ardyn only held the flask high with a grin, and with a careless twist of his fingers he let his “gift” fall.

The glass shattered into a myriad of crystals, leaving free reign to its mysterious contents. A cloud of smoke erupted, sizzling with menacingly bright sparkles, growing phenomenally in size and threatening to engulf the whole garden. The panicking guests scrambled to the doors, trying to get to safety.

Regis moved as fast as he could to get to his son, only to witness the daemonic miasma settle over the crib, enveloping Noctis.

‘No!’ he cried, snatching up the prince, but glimpsing at the passing pink glint in Noctis’ irises, he knew, that he was late. His son started to wail.

Cor and Clarus met only the swirling mist when they stepped up to where the Niflheim Chancellor had been mere seconds ago. Cor took a few quick steps through the isle, but decided the pursuit of that bastard would be futile. His king should be his priority. Clarus was already standing by the side of His Majesty, steering him in the direction of the nearest exit when Cor turned back around.

‘Cor! See to it that everyone gets to safety!’ Clarus commanded. The Marshal only nodded, and was off again.

 

Regis stepped out onto the corridor, Clarus’ right arm still tightly wrapped around his liege’s shoulder. In the quiet of the hallway he could clearly hear now the prince crying. Regis did not utter a word, clinging to his son desperately and depending on his friend to lead him to safety.

Clarus was too stunned to say anything, but he didn’t think his words would bring any comfort either way. So he just kept on going.

He was certain that Jared got his daughter out of the garden without problems, and his son… well, Gladio was sure to fend for himself. His only concern now lay with his friend.

Standing finally in the lift, he could see Regis trembling; quick little tremors in his hands again, one entwined in the fabric of his son’s clothes, the other flitting over the side of his face, as if he could find whatever the Chancellor did to him. Clarus listened to the quick breaths leaving his lips, and Noctis’ crying voice. He never felt this helpless in his life.

Regis just kept rocking his son; Clarus willed the numbers on the pad to go faster, as they rode in silence.

Even as they finally reached the King’s living quarters and the doors closed behind them, the heavy atmosphere stayed. What is there to say in circumstances, such as this? Minutes passed. Clarus suspected that any more thinking would earn him a sore neck, scratched bloody, as he caught himself again repeating the same nervous gesture.

There was a knock.

Clarus hurried over to the doors, as Regis seemed to be stuck in a loop trying to comfort Noctis and ignoring the world. Cor Leonis was standing on the other side.

‘Everyone present at the ceremony has been evacuated and seen to, Sir! All available Crownsguard personnel is on duty, effective now. I’ve let a small team scour the grounds and check the security footage, but I have not got my hopes up.’

‘And you might just be right not to,’ Clarus morosely affirmed. ‘If that asshole could just… sneak into the Citadel, we have a very low probability of catching him on his way out. Anybody hurt?’

‘No. Some minor injuries occurred in the panic, but they have been tended to. How is the king?’

‘Take a wild guess, Cor… I–,’ Clarus looked around helplessly, ’I don’t know what to do! I cannot offer anything that would make this any better, given it is true. I’m utterly useless and not even taking into account that it’s the prince, this is my friend’s child we are talking about!’

‘I know.’ Cor’s resigned tone told him, he felt the same. ‘Anything I can do?’

‘Find my son, if you would, and Ignis Scientia as well. Be on standby. I’ll try to speak with Regis; maybe he will be amenable to talk things through, because if the Empire is really out for the prince’s life… we need a plan.’

Cor nodded, saluted, and rushed away. Clarus closed the doors behind him, and with a deep sigh, went back to his king.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are thrown out the window, Gladio makes the weirdest decisions and help comes from the most unexpected of places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, yet again! I'm not going to steal all that much of your time, before you embark on this second chapter of the story, but it occurred to me, that I forgot to mention some details in my last (or first ever, depends from where you are looking at it) author's note. A rookie mistake on my part.  
> So, obviously this is an AU but I'll try to put in as much canon compliant occurrences as possible. Except the shitty ones; we are here to have a good time.  
> Obviously, the age-gap between the boys is anything but canon compliant, still, please bear with me! And, as stated in the tags, this is, or at some point will be a Gladniss fic –other pairings and ships available–, so if its not your thing, consider yourself warned.
> 
> Thanks to amiyade for beta-reading!  
> Onto chapter two!

A good two hours after the disastrous ceremony, Gladio and Ignis followed the Marshal up to the king’s residence. Cor only told them that, as the Prince’s Shield and Chamberlain, their presence was required, which was not much to go on. At least Gladio had the time to call his sister in the meantime; Iris was safe at the Amicitia manor and would stay there until Gladio and their father returned home.

Gladio couldn’t even really fathom what was happening around him; he knew magic was real, he knew the Astrals were scattered all over their world, he knew that out there somewhere, daemons roamed the dark, but… a death curse? These weren’t the dark times of the Founder King! It wasn’t something that he could just wrap his head around. Ignis on the other hand, seemed to conceal his state of perplexity with his business-face and questions. Or maybe, Gladio thought, he was some sort of robot, and was not touched by all this a bit.

 ‘Any development on the situation, Marshal? Is the prince well?’

 ‘From what little information I have from Clarus, yes. The king’s physician said that everything checked out. But otherwise…,’ he paused, contemplating, ‘we do not know what we are facing here.’

 ‘Understood,’ was Ignis’ curt answer. Silence fell after that.

The elder Amicitia met them at the doors and led them through the chambers, before motioning them into Regis’ study. The king was leaning onto his son’s crib. Still, he managed to force a small, grateful smile when he looked up at the men’s arrival. It vanished quickly.

 ‘Gladiolus, Ignis! Thank you for attending!’

‘Your Majesty!’ They bowed in unison. Gladio glanced at all the drawn curtains –surely a safety measure–, and heard his father secure the door behind them. Gladio would think it overkill in any other case, but he was still baffled at the stunt that bastard of a chancellor pulled today. Gladio really wanted to know how he got inside, just so he could keep the guy _outside_. Preferably, as far away from the Citadel and Insomnia as possible.

While Gladio wondered about how satisfying it would be to punch the Chancellor’s nose up into his brain, Ignis, ever practical, cut to the chase.

‘How can we be of assistance, Your Majesty?’

‘I need council regarding my son’s safety,’ Regis said. Gladio and Ignis exchanged a quick, but all the more confused look.

‘We do not even know what happened at the ceremony, how can we plan any countermeasures?’ Cor questioned.

‘We might not be certain of their methods, but two aspects are confirmed: there _is_ threat to Noctis’ life and there is a deadline. This is solid enough information for me,’ Clarus piped in. ‘We have good enough intel to know, that something very unnatural is going down in Niflheim. We already had the pleasure of fighting their aberrant soldiers. ‘

‘You are right, but a _curse_ ,’ the Marshal huffed. ‘That’s just sounds too far-fetched.’

‘That coming from the very man, who battled a two thousand years old spirit and lived to tell the tale…’ Clarus tutted. Cor rolled his eyes.

‘If you have to put it that way… it’s just hard to imagine people running about, cursing each other…’

‘That might be true, my friend, but we still cannot disregard the possibility that the Chancellor spoke the truth. As unfeasible as it sounded, I will not take any risks.’ Regis’ features radiated absolute resolution.

‘And rightly so,’ Clarus assured. He looked over to the door, where his son and Ignis were still standing bewildered.     Clarus was not entirely truthful, when he let his second-in-command fetch the boys. Sure, as Chamberlain and (almost) Shield to the prince they were obligated in some form to be present, but he had other reasons as well.

Regis was barely holding up, although he steeled himself, as usual. Clarus was at the end of his wits as well, both from the day’s events and from standing on alert, waiting for the second his king finally crumbled under the weight of the tragedies. They were all tired, very much so, but both boys had a good head on their shoulders. A fresh perspective might do them some good. In Clarus’ opinion, the sooner they wrapped this up and let Regis rest, the better.

 

The sun slowly set behind the walls of Insomnia, handing over the reins of the city to the night-life. The Crown City was as busy after dark, as it was during the day hours. The Crystal ensured that all who lived under its protective wall could walk the colourfully lit streets even after the sun’s rays vanished behind the horizon. A luxury that the rest of Lucis could not enjoy.

Not that many of the Crown Citizens would care about that on any given day, but today, their interests lay entirely elsewhere. People stopped on the streets just to watch another news coverage on the many huge screens scattered around the city centre –courtesy of the Lucian Television & Network™–; all blaring about the failed ceremony in a (naturally) exaggerated fashion, as news coverages are wont to do.

Pub-goers chattered about it, sitting on high barstools and nursing their beers, speculating the truth and making wild assumptions; tired marketing professionals talked about it on their way home, suits creased from a hard day at work, whispering about the biggest publicity stunt of the year.

Somewhere along the high street, Gentiana stared at a screen showing the footage of the Citadel’s gardens from that afternoon. A small girl standing beside her had her eyes trained on the video as well, her cute pale face scrunched up in concentration and probably disapproval.

The video ended, the view obscured by a swirling and sparkling dark mess. Gentiana ushered her companion into the backseat of a sleek white car and got in as well.  The car sped down towards its destination. Gentiana leaned back in the leather seat. The city streets rushed by the car window in one neon coloured blur.

She contemplated silently, before speaking.

‘Your Highness, I might require your assistance.’

 

 Night time found the five man still in the king’s study. The refreshments, brought up by Regis’ retainers, sat mostly untouched on the small trolley. The last half an hour was spent standing around tiredly and speaking up in a random fashion. In the end, of course nobody said anything.

Regis was determinedly pacing the floor; either on autopilot or because agitation made him absolutely unable to stop. They assessed the situation, they reviewed all even slightly feasible plans from A to Z, and still, they were no closer to solving this situation.

The Crystal mustn’t be destroyed and keeping the prince locked up in a room for the next sixteen years was just as unpleasant an idea, as any other they managed to come up with in the hours prior. They seemed to have arrived at an impasse.

Clarus thought about somehow breaking up this council, persuading Regis to at least try to get some sleep, while letting everybody present in the study do the same, but Clarus was no fool. He knew his friend well. His king would not budge until there was at least some miniscule progress to ease his mind.

His musing was interrupted when Regis suddenly stopped in his tracks. Everybody looked up. The king looked like he was pondering something thoroughly, before he stepped up to Ignis and spoke.

‘You have to take my son and hide him!’

Ignis wouldn’t say he was a genius by any means, but he liked to think of himself as intelligent. Now he surely looked like a gaping fish, mind perfectly blank as he stared at his liege, who was still very determinedly eyeing his son’s future adviser.

 ‘Majesty…?’ Ignis asked, suddenly finding himself unable to comprehend basic sentences.

‘This is the only way to keep my son safe! We cannot move the Crystal away from Insomnia, and apparently we cannot keep the Chancellor out of our city; at least, until we figure out his modus operandi.

‘All we need right now, is to gain some time. But I cannot concentrate on finding a solution, until I know that my son is a safe distance away.’

‘What have you in mind exactly, your Majesty?’ Ignis enquired. A sliver of gratefulness and something akin of hope mirrored themselves in the King’s eyes.

‘You have to take Noctis somewhere; anywhere! First and foremost, to get him away from the Crystal. And should the Chancellor have some more tricks up his sleeve, he cannot do anything, if he does not know the prince’s whereabouts. We just have to keep these three elements apart until we have a sure way of saving my son’s life.’

‘A very clever workaround, Regis,’ Clarus nodded, ‘and we might just succeed. But this will need outmost secrecy.’

A set of knocks at the door made the makeshift council jump in unison. Everybody looked at it nervously.

‘Your Majesty!’ came a voice from the other side of the door. ‘I’m so terribly sorry to have to bother you at this hour, but the envoys from Tenebrae request your urgent audience!’

 

The view that greeted the men, as they stepped into the sitting room, was quite surprising. They knew of course, that Queen Sylva had many a task, both as reigning monarch and as Oracle. Nobody expected her to make an appearance, but the king was sure none the less, that a select few diplomats would make the journey and impart the best of wishes of Tenebrae and her people. What he saw now was the opposite of his expectations.

A small, very blond girl occupied one of the chairs, almost getting lost in it, her feet dangling at an awkward angle as she tried to sit in the most appropriate manner for a conference of this calibre. A woman was standing just behind her; gentle features, calming smile, long black hair. Her black gown resembled Lucian formal wear more, than that of Tenebrae; except for the white long shawl wrapped around her arms fluttering behind her.

‘A good evening to you both! I hope you had a pleasant journey,’ Regis nodded at them. The little girl clumsily slipped out of the chair, but bowed in a regal fashion, creating a weird contrast in movement.

‘Your Majesty,’ she greeted, her voice like tiny tinkling bells.

‘Your Majesty,’ now the lady stepped forward, bowing with her gentle smile still in place. ‘Please let me present you Her Royal Highness, the Princess Lunafreya Nox Fleuret of Tenebrae.’

Regis bowed curtly. He was well aware of the visitor’s identity, long before her retainer made the formal introduction. Those eyes were unmistakable.

‘You resemble your honourable mother more and more,’ the king smiled. ‘Your Highness, welcome to Lucis!’

The princess let out an involuntary giggle, as she curtsied.

‘Your outstanding memory might spare us some unnecessary discussions. My name is Gentiana. Have our most honest gratitude for agreeing to this audience, Your Majesty!’

The king’s entourage looked taken aback; the young princess of Tenebrae, alone with a retainer, in Lucis?

‘Her Majesty, Queen Sylva, was regrettably otherwise occupied,’ Gentiana continued, as if she was reading their thoughts. ‘Though she sends Your Majesty her warmest wishes. Alas, the princess was restless in demanding she be allowed to pay the prince of Lucis a visit. It must indeed be fated, that we arrived in this hour of need.’

‘What do you mean, my lady?’ Regis inquired, seemingly thrown with this unexpected development. The princess stepped forward and looked him straight in the eyes.

‘We can help!’

Regis just stared back at her. The men behind him exchanged glances, but if they were hoping to understand what was happening around them, they were mistaken. Gentiana stepped closer to them, laughing softly. A faint light emitted from all around her, small, glowing particles flying according to an unseen pattern.

‘As High Messenger to the Gods, alongside the future Oracle, I wish to lessen the burden you and your son came to bear, King Regis.’

 

Once again, they found themselves in the study, where the prince was lying in his crib; not really slumbering, but not awake either. Gentiana stood over him, the gentle smile not leaving her face even for a moment.

‘The young Prince’s fate has been set in motion and none can foresee what this will bring to the future of our world. We cannot annul what the mortal of Niflheim brought forth; merely dilute the effects.’ The High Messenger’s voice sounded ethereal, as she looked back at the men. ‘Destiny cannot be stopped; but we shall aid the prince to our best abilities.’

Gentiana’s eyes locked on Noctis. She lifted her arms and the soft luminescence embraced her yet again.

‘Hear me, oh, future King! If through this wicked trick should you meet your end, the strings of Fate here I shall bend. Not in death but just in sleep the fateful prophecy you'll keep, and from this slumber you shall wake when true love's kiss the spell shall break.’

Lunafreya was then engulfed in the Messenger’s blessed light, floating ever so softly by the crib, just high enough to grip the board in her small hands. She smiled sweetly at Noctis, and innocently kissed the babe’s forehead. Noctis only blinked at her with his huge, blue eyes.

‘For true love conquers all,’ Gentiana seemed to conclude her speech, the princess softly landing next to her. ‘The Gods have spoken, my dear King, our task here is concluded. Never fall complacent, King of Lucis, for I have merely bought you time. Yet, much is to be done. Fight for what is dear to your heart, and fight fiercely.’

Gentiana bowed, the princess following suit, not even waiting for the men to pay them the same respects, before the both of them took off without a further glance at the room’s occupants.

 

The arguments welled up once again as the men shook off their perplexed state, but all those questions with no real answers only brought commotion with them.

 ‘But how can we be sure that the Messenger’s blessing helped?’

‘We cannot. Not for certain,’ Regis cut in. Though the future Oracle’s presence lit a miniscule of hope in his heart. ‘So we have to proceed with my initial plan. We simply mustn’t take risks. Ignis, when can you depart?’

‘At your behest, your Majesty,’ the chamberlain answered without a moment’s hesitation. Regis nodded.

‘Tomorrow, then,’ the king decided.

‘Your Majesty, more time will be needed to set up a team of reliable caretakers, the lodgings, th–, ‘Clarus tried to reason.

‘Only Ignis; sending all royal attendants with him would defeat our purpose,’ Regis stated firmly. ‘You were right Clarus. We need absolute secrecy with this one.’

‘The less people know about this whole affair, the better,’ Cor endorsed.

‘Astrals, he is barely seventeen!’ Clarus countered. Both Regis and Cor looked at him with an unbelieving face, eyebrows raised high.

‘I can assure you Lord Amicitia, I am fully capable of looking after Prince Noctis’ most needs.’

Gladio snickered as his father lifted his hands, signalling retreat from this verbal battle before it even began. Rightly so, as someone who became a father almost at this age, he was certainly not one to talk.

‘I would never doubt that, Ignis.’

Gladio went over to the Prince, listening to the back and forth between the other men. Noctis was lying on his back, observing the new face that came into view, squealing happily. The men’s voices faded into a white noise as Gladio got lost in his thoughts, but however he twisted and pulled the facts, there was only one sensible way to go about this.

 

‘We need to set up a monthly allowance then, or someone who can make regular drops.’

‘Marshal, if I may,’ Ignis interjected. ‘Any kind of traceable, or repeated actions from the Crown City would be ill advised at the moment. We absolutely must strive to maintain a low profile and blend in as well as possible.’

‘Ignis, stop making this harder on you than it has to be,’ Cor rebutted.

‘I certainly do not wish to, Marshal, but this is the logical choice. We cannot endanger our plan by setting up direct routes for the enemy.’

‘Ever the strategist, I see…’ Cor shook his head. Ignis almost smiled.

‘A fair amount of money will be needed of course, in the currency of the outlands, to tide us over for a while. We also need to think accommodations...’ the chamberlain mused.

‘I might have an idea about that; my– ‘

‘Don’t!’ Regis interjected. ‘If you would arrange that part without my presence, I would be most grateful, my friend. The less I know, the better.’

‘As you wish…’ Cor uttered.

‘I’m going with them!’ Gladio suddenly exclaimed, turning back swiftly to face everyone else. All men present looked at him as if he suddenly sprouted another head.

‘Gladiolus,’ his father started, but Gladio just stepped forward.

‘Dad, hear me out! I know the ceremony was a bust and my position got never officially recognized, but we Amicitias have always been Shields to the king’s bloodline. I am not gonna be the one to break tradition, curse or no curse.’ Every pair of eyes glued to him, Gladio gulped, then continued. ‘I know how much pride you take in your work and I know what _I must_ do. I won’t be satisfied with any less. What good is a shield, if it is not protecting someone?’

The staring match between father and son ended as Regis spoke up.

‘I really appreciate what you are willing to do for my son, Gladiolus, but are you absolutely certain?’ Regis asked, not only as a gesture. He knew, that given a few minutes, Clarus would come to the conclusion, that sending his son away is the only way to go. He would probably rant about honour and duty, but Regis already lost Noctis. He was not about to be the cause of his friend losing his own. If Gladio changed his mind, he would do everything in his power, to keep him in the Citadel and make Clarus see reason.

‘My mind is made up, Your Majesty.’

‘Very well then.’ Regis still couldn’t help but lock eyes with Clarus. He needed to know how his friend felt about Gladio’s abrupt decision. Apparently, not that good, but Clarus nodded with a resolute face anyways.

‘Gladiolus Amicitia, do you hereby swear to shield and guide the prince, till death do you part?’

Well, this was not the pompous ceremony in front of the court, that Gladio was promised ever since he was a child; but thinking about standing there on the podium and making a public oath of his allegiance made now his skin crawl. Confidently stating ‘I swear!’ in front of a few important people meant so much more. _Was_ so much more.

And so, after Gladio impromptu became the youngest Shield in history, the assembly dispersed, leaving the king to his son.

Clarus watched Cor leave with Ignis, no doubt to settle matters about lodging. Gladio dutifully stood in the corridor, waiting for his father, as Clarus spoke a few last words with the king.

‘Are you certain, you want to go through with this? You can still think this over…’

‘Clarus,’ Regis clasped his Shield on the shoulder, ‘my mind is set. I will do anything to keep Noctis safe. Even this.’

Clarus nodded in understanding and kicking every bit or royal protocol out the proverbial window, hugged Regis, before bidding his friend good night. He set off in the direction of the lifts for the umpteenth time this day, his son falling in step behind him. Neither of them said a word until they were sitting in the car. Clarus moved to start the engine, but put his arms on the wheel instead and rested his head there for a moment. Gladio thought he looked ridiculous, slumped over in his official, very stern looking, courtly robes.

‘Dad…?’ Gladio asked, and got an upheld index finger for his troubles.

‘Gladio you must know, that I have never been this proud of you,’ Clarus sighed as he leaned back in his seat. ‘But I’m also very, very pissed off.’

‘Dad, you kno– ’

‘Let me finish, son, please. I know this was the right thing to do, and I know I would be doing the same in your place, I’m just…’ another sigh. ’You being the Shield to the prince is one thing, and you going away for an indefinite time is another. A fact I have yet to come to terms with.’

Gladio couldn’t really react to that. So he didn’t.

‘Iris is probably going to tear your head off,’ Clarus continued in a lighter manner. His daughter could be a real force of nature, if hackled. ‘Oh, Gladio, I can’t wait for that family dinner.’

 

Gladio looked over at the other man with a face that sung of disbelief and utter mortification. Clarus should be _sad,_ that his only son is leaving, and here he is, plotting awkward situations instead. It was official, his dad was a right a-hole.

‘I can’t believe you just said that!’ Gladio scrubbed his face with both palms. ’Can we just get going already?’

Clarus drove out of the car park laughing. 

 

Ignis felt almost dead on his feet by the time he reached his Citadel apartment and stepped through the door. He liked this place. It wasn’t much, needn’t to be. He spent barely any time in his rooms, but despite mostly using it for sleeping and the occasional cooking spree, he _liked_ this place. It was neat, had enough shelves for his ever-growing collection of books, the kitchen was very well equipped and, most importantly, with Ignis living on his own, his uncle had one less thing to worry about. His uncle! Another thing Ignis added to his mental checklist of things he needed to see to, before leaving tomorrow.

Leaving. He will be leaving Insomnia, with a three-months-old baby none the less. When would he be back? Would this place still be here to welcome him? Will he be able to come back at all? _Oh, Astrals_ …

This was definitely not the train of thought that Ignis should be having; these kind of thoughts led to madness, or in this case, probably panic. Ignis _refused_ to panic. He was, after all, an adviser, a strategist; in an hour’s time, he will have a plan and he will execute it to the letter.

He just needed to pack some essentials of his own, make a list for anything Noctis could be in need of… should he go out early and buy all the baby paraphernalia? Should he have asked King Regis, if it will be seen to? No, these banal things are most likely the last thing on the king’s mind; Ignis surely would not care, would their places be swapped. Shopping it is then. They will need to buy the perishables again anyway at some point; there is only so much two men can take with themselves on this journey.

The realisation of Gladio accompanying him hit Ignis hard. He was there when Gladiolus exclaimed his intention, he stood there as the decision was made, and yet… Seemingly, his brain was way too preoccupied with being assigned to a task as considerable as this, and later, ironing out the details of their future residence with the Marshal.

They didn’t really know each other, Gladio and Ignis. Yes, sometimes they had a sparring session together – hard to avoid, as they were both Crownsguards in training –, and yes, they said a few words to each other, when they met in the Citadel’s corridors, and _yes_ , Ignis behaved like a tool this afternoon, but apart from that...

Ignis couldn’t even fathom how living with the other man would be; would the circumstances be different, he had no doubt, that by the time the prince needed both their services, they could have worked out some kind of dynamic. If not a personal, then a professional one for certain.

Ignis sighed, with all the world-weariness he could muster and got back to packing and making notes of the nearest shops catering to young parents and their offspring. No use dwelling on hypotheticals; he had precious little time to get everything done. This whole situation will work out. Somehow. Ignis was sure of it. But men wiser than him made bigger miscalculations over the course of history, so he is really not to blame.

 

‘Iris, please!’ Gladio begged his sister. ‘Please, just… would you stop cryin’ for a minute?’ Iris definitely did _not_ stop crying. If anything, she got even louder in her displeasure upon hearing the news.

The Amicitia family was sitting in their open-plan living-dining room. Although they occupied a quite well situated manor, obviously not on the small side, Clarus Amicitia always thought, that lordships and estates aside, he preferred to spend his free time with his family in a cosy atmosphere.

Even more so, because his royal duties kept him from his kids most of the time. So, the mansion’s inside was designed just as any other family home. To be frank, Clarus could not have cared less, when they moved in with Aurinia back in the days. He never had a knack for interior design, or furniture for that matter; if it would have been up to him, he would have just bought whatever he saw first and be done with it. But his wife was very adamant about creating a home, a real home; so that was what they did. Clarus was never brave enough to argue with a Crownsguard, who could possibly whip his ass even pregnant. And now he was glad his late wife got the upper hand in this matter.

 

So, the family in question was sitting by the table, having a “Congratulations on becoming a Shield!” dinner, which then, by the time they actually sat down, turned into an “I don’t know if I’ll ever see you in my life again!” dinner. Certainly more awkward, then the first option.

Clarus had the mind to order in from their family favourite restaurant at the last minute, rather than watch his daughter tear his son a new one in public, as soon as she stopped crying.

Well, the headlines about the Amicitia siblings’ public row with each other would have taken some of the pressure from Regis’ shoulders at least. As it were, sensibility won out in the end, and Clarus spared both his children and probably saved them from needing to find a new restaurant to regularly eat at.

Jared stopped puttering about in the kitchen with… whatever it was their family retainer was doing and came over with a fresh box of tissues, handing it wordlessly to Iris. If it was possible, she made even more noise now, blowing her nose and weeping in an alternating fashion. Gladio gave up and sat back down, poking at his dinner lamely.

‘I don’t want you to go,’ Iris finally cried.

‘Iris… you know I have to. I’m the prince’s bodyguard, I promised!’

‘But Ignis is going! He can do it alone!’ Iris insisted.

‘I’m not going because he can’t, Iris… What would I be guarding here, with the prince gone?’

‘I don’t know! You could take care of me!’

‘Iris–’Gladio tried to reason, but didn’t get very far with it.

‘Then I’m going with you!’ she decided.

‘That is certainly out of the question, young lady,’ her father countered.

Iris got up quickly, her chair flying backwards, her red cheeks puffed up with a deep breath. She looked first at her father, then her brother, chin wobbling, then screamed ‘I hate you both!’ and stormed up the stairs.

The men sighed in unison. They knew very well to give her at least twenty minutes, before trying to go after her and talking things through.

‘This went well…’ Gladio muttered, giving up on his food entirely. Clarus just hummed, setting his daughter’s chair upright. Jared came up to the table.

‘If you do not need anything more of me,’ he said softly, placing two glasses and a bottle of “Elder Coeurl” between the plates, ‘I shall take my leave. I will see you in the morning, Lord Amicitia! Young Master!’

‘Good night, Jared!’ Gladio answered. Clarus bid him good bye as well, while grabbing the bottle of scotch. It was amazing how good Jared knew them. He always seemed to know what they needed in any given moment. Clarus poured a good two fingers’ worth in both glasses and offered one to Gladio.

‘Dad, really?’ Gladio looked at the tumbler unbelieving, before taking it.

‘Yes, _really_. It’s not like you haven’t drank before…’ Gladio rolled his eyes. There might have been a slight blush as well.

‘We both could use a little time out.’ Clarus sipped at his drink. ‘Who knows if we’ll ever have the chance to drink together again…’

‘Dad, come on, I’m not going to my death tomorrow.’ Gladio tasted his drink. His face contorted for a bit, but he gulped the scotch down. He smacked his lips, shrugged with a face that said “not that bad” and drank again.

‘I know, Gladiolus. I know…’ Clarus replied, ‘but it will be utterly weird without you around.’

‘You know; this should give you some incentive to work quicker on saving the prince,’ Gladio added, grinning cheekily at his father. ‘Get to the bottom of it, so you can see your only, darling son again…!’

Clarus shot him a sceptic glance.

‘Maybe I’ll just sit back and enjoy the coming sixteen years. Parenting Iris will be much less troublesome when she is on her own.’ Clarus hid his grin behind the lip of his glass.

‘As if,’ Gladio scoffed, gulping down some more scotch. Now that his father mentioned parenting, he realised, that he will have to do his part in this whole set up with the prince; standing around and waiting for some danger to save His Highness from probably won’t cut it. Even the thought of bringing up a baby made him groan.

‘Mind elaborating on that, son?’

Gladio leaned back in his chair, exasperated.

‘How did you do it? This whole parenting shtick?’ he asked, flapping his right hand around helplessly.

‘Oh, well,’ Clarus mused, ’I guess I grew up to the task gradually? Nobody really has any idea what they are doing first time around, Gladio. You just try your best and hope that you can raise capable and happy human beings. Having your mother around helped of course. Oh, and Jared! He actually has seen babies before, would you believe?’

Gladio laughed softly. It was such a rare occasion that the two of them had any time for a little father-son bonding. Especially one with Clarus in a light mood. He was usually stressed out about one courtly affair or the other, sometimes Regis, sometimes Gladio or Iris or both. Clarus rarely let that sour their time together, but still, it wasn’t the same as having a talk like this. Considering the circumstances, this was a truly exceptional gift and it made Gladio’s chest hurt in a weird way.

‘Do not fret, son!’ Clarus enthused as he refilled their glasses. ‘You will have Scientia with you. He seems highly capable.’

‘You mean “boring”?’ Gladio jeered.

‘Well, one of you ought to be level-headed and let’s be honest, Gladio – despite all your self-discipline – it is not you,’ Clarus said, having a sip at the liqueur.

Gladio just rolled his eyes. Clarus ignored him.

‘It wasn’t your mother’s strongest feature either… nor mine, thinking back on it. But, I guess I’ve grown out of it, sorting out council affairs and constantly being by Regis’ side. Aurinia on the other hand… the two of you are so similar, it is sometimes scary.’

There was a brief pause, both men gulping down some of the amber liquid, (or in Gladio’s case, sloshing back whatever was left in his glass) and staring at nothing in particular, reminiscing. Clarus quickly steered them back on track.

‘Spending time with Ignis will do you good; I can feel it!’ he exclaimed, but if his son’s face was anything to go by, Gladio certainly did not share the sentiment.

‘I have faith in you, Gladiolus. You will do your best and when you look back, in a few years’ time, you will be proud of yourself.’ He drank the last of the “Elder Coeurl” swishing about in his tumbler and stood up. ‘I already am.’

‘Dad…’

‘I’ll let you get going; I assume you have some packing to do. Don’t forget to talk to your sister!’

Gladio stepped up to him, hesitating only for a fracture before catching his dad in a fierce hug.

‘Love you, Dad!’

‘I love you too, son!’

I could definitely do with one last drink, Clarus decided as he watched his son disappear upstairs. 

 

Gladio tried to figure out if he should take out some clothes from his sports bag or just try to stuff in everything with a bit more force until the bag closed, when somebody knocked on his bedroom door. He found a sheepish looking Iris on the other side.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked meekly.

‘Of course, don’t be stupid,’ Gladio ushered her in and closed the door, giving them some privacy.

‘I’m sorry for behaving like a brat…’ Iris plopped down on the unmade bed.

‘Well, you are a brat,’ Gladio teased, sitting down beside his sister and putting her in a one-armed headlock.

‘Gladio, stop it!’ Iris protested, slithering out of his hold. ‘I’m being serious here; you big behemoth!’

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Gladio nudged her with one shoulder, which, considering his size almost propelled Iris down the other side of the bed. No ten-year-old girl was a match for those muscles. ‘So, what’s up? You know I’ll be coming back, right?’

‘Yes, but when?’ Iris complained. Her skirt was bunched up in her fists, the tartan fabric getting more and more wrinkled with each nervous movement. ‘I don’t remember much of mom… if I forget you too…’

As a repeat performance of their dinner, the tears started to fall again.

‘Come here!’ Gladio hugged her to his chest. Iris sniffled into his vest. ‘Hey, you won’t forget me, just as I won’t forget you. I know this is very hush-hush for now, but we’ll think of something, okay?’

‘You mean, Ignis will?’ Iris looked up at him, eyes still full of tears and now, a mischievous glint. The cheeky little punk… ‘He is way more clever, than you.’

‘Did you just call your own brother stupid?’ Gladio shot back, outraged. He got the tissues from his bedside table and handed them to Iris. ‘And how do you know Ignis?’

‘He sometimes lets me wait in his office, when Dad is late. He even gave me a cool book on sewing once.’

Good thing Gladio was well versed in translating his sister, while said sister’s face was buried in various tissues. Otherwise, he might have missed out on the news of the Adviser and his own baby sister being acquainted. Iris balled up the wet tissues and looked Gladio square in the eye.

‘He was nice to me, so you are not allowed to be mean to him!’ Iris demanded with a pinkie finger thrust out. ‘Promise, Gladdy!’

‘All right, already…’ Gladio sighed and linked pinkies with Iris. Seemed like all his family members were in favour of Scientia. ‘But only, if you promise to take care of Dad!’

‘You know I will, silly!’ Iris leaned in for a hearty hug, snuggling up to his brother. Gladio instantly grabbed her by the waist, lifting her light body up in the air before putting her in his lap.

‘Hah! You have fallen right into my vile trap!’ Tickling is the work of evil, without any doubt. Nothing can make a small girl squeal quite like a pig trying to outrun a butcher. ‘Who is silly now, sis?!’

Despite her pleas, Gladio gave no mercy and the torture went on until Iris started screaming ‘I yield!’. She scrubbed the fresh tears from her face and jumped energetically from the bed.

‘I gotta go, Gladdy; there is something I wanna finish.’

‘So heartless! Leaving me so soon!’ Gladio swooned and got a kick to the shin as reward for his acting prowess.

‘You are one to talk…’ Iris dived in for a last quick squeeze and skipped her way to the door. ’See you in the morning; you dork!’

‘Good night, sis!’

As soon as the door closed, Gladio slumped down on his bed. The lights of the Crown City filtered in through the curtains. Will he miss these lights? The hustle of the city? The comfortable life all the commodities provided?

He did not know much about what lay outside the city walls. A few titbits from his father’s “glorious adventures”, but those tales never sounded the same, especially not if both Clarus and Regis tried to tell them at the same time. He looked at his bag and felt precious little will in himself to even think about packing, let alone actually finishing it. He just wanted to bundle himself in his bed, and never leave it.

‘I will get back to it in a minute…’ Gladio murmured to the empty bedroom and continued to watch the blurry lights of Insomnia until he fell asleep.

 

Somewhere, not very far, in a small Citadel flat, Ignis slept soundly, sitting on his sofa, notebook still in hand.

 

 

One man, high up in the Citadel, did not care either for the time, or tiredness, or the lights of the city. He only had eyes for one precious thing: his son, bundled in his arms, munching down on yet another bottle and looking with eyes wide at his father.

Regis could feel the weariness in his bones pulling him down like lead, but the heaviness of his heart was greater; the desperate hope of elongating this night into eternity keeping him awake.

‘I know the memory of this night will only sit heavily on my mind… and I so wish you could remember me, but at least you will be spared of this longing. I swear I’m going to find a solution, my son.’

Although Regis did not know how, or when.

When Aulea told him the good news barely a year ago, he was over the moon. He knew what awaited his son once he grew up and took over the burdens of reigning, but he also knew that any child of his would grow up to take on the task bravely. Regis was well aware how very little time he would have for family affairs; the kingdom so cruelly demanding everything its king had to give: time, energy, their very last breath. But, as long as he carried the blood royal, he would carry his head high and fulfil his duty.

It was the Astrals’ given destiny to the Lucis Caelums and Regis has always been proud of keeping the people of Lucis and the Crystal safe, even at the eventual cost of his own life, but… all this started to look like an unfair joke of the Fates. Was this what he deserved? Being torn away from his only son after losing the love of his life? Was his family protecting the Crystal for these many years, only now for it to be a tool of their torment? A means to kill his boy?

 

_» Never cease fighting for what is dear to your heart, oh, King of Lucis«_

 

Regis wasn’t sure if those chilly words echoed from the walls of his bedroom or if the Messenger’s voice was an unbidden thought that fought itself up to the forefront of his mind, but it did not matter. Gentiana and the future Oracle gave him a leeway, and he would use it well.

He had time to make plans, he had a chance to save his son’s life. And there was some time still, to etch every smile, every chubby finger, every single line of Noctis’ face into his memory.

                 

The first lights of the morning were approaching fast, the world moving on around Insomnia and not having a care for the plights of men.

       It never did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come and find me at tumblr, @nightxshade!  
> And hey! Thank you for reading! See you next Wednesday! (☉ ε　⊙ﾉ)ﾉ


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio should stop picking up stuff in the woods, Ignis is quite literally done with his life choices and a bottle of Accordian whiskey dies a heroic death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear Readers! Finally– FINALLY we have reached the interesting bits! Well, some bits in any case...  
> This chapter is a bit on the longer side, so rrrrroll up your sleeves, ladies and gents! Have fun!
> 
> P.S.: a huge thank you to all the lovely people leaving kudos and commenting!! Love you all! .+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ<3  
> P.P.S.: the last time I had to care for a baby on a regular basis was like.....twelve years ago? And looking up everything on internet is...just not the same, so please, please forgive the inaccuracies!

The following morning found the Crown City in its usual hectic glory. The news-stands were well stocked with the important daily papers, all plastered with a catchy headline, in block capitals, like: “THE END OF THE LUCIS CAELUM BLOODLINE” and “WHO IS THE NEXT IN LINE TO THE THRONE?” and “THE MYSTICAL CHANCELOR OF NIFLHEIM” and “IS INSOMNIA DOOMED TO FALL?”.

And somewhere in-between was a fresh stack of Dreamsomnia, with a blaring pink headline of “264 HOT LOOKS AND SEXY HAIR SECRETS” and other mildly interest-arousing topics listed underneath. Obviously Dreamsomnia’s editorial management was not one for recent political incidents.

The residents of the Crown City still gossiped about the disastrous ceremony on their way to work; mothers were whispering about it in scandalized tones in the middle of the canned goods aisle, and of course, the children were cursing each other on the various playgrounds scattered around the city.

The sun was shining down in an uncharacteristically bright and hurtful way for a late November morning; the cold tinted rays making the steps of the Citadel a blindingly harsh white. The four towers glowed like shimmering pillars of light, straining to reach the heavens.

Ignis wished he had a pair of sunglasses, as he trudged up the endless staircase, squinting like a sick owl behind his glasses. Speaking of things, he didn’t have, some help wouldn’t have been remiss either.

He scaled the steps loaded with various packs and bags. He might have overdone the shopping a bit this morning, but they had absolutely no way of knowing what the situation was like outside. Who knows, maybe they will be forced to use cloth nappies at some point in the future...! Also, that lady at the shop –Sarah, Ignis’ mind supplied helpfully– was very persuasive. But if anybody asks, Ignis will swear that the fear of tearing up good bedding and clothing items made him buy up half the baby shop.

‘Ignis! Ignis!’ A small girl came dashing up the steps, taking them two at a time, a mountain of a man following her. Iris stopped in front of him.

‘Morning!’ she chirped.

‘Good morning, Iris! Gladiolus,’ he added as the man reached them.

‘Hey, Ignis!’ Gladio greeted him with a grin. Then looked confused between his two bags and all the myriad stuff hanging off of Ignis. ‘Are you sure you packed enough?’ he laughed.

‘These are for the prince, not me,’ Ignis said, awkwardly righting his glasses with a hand full of bags.

‘Come on,’ Gladio took most of the luggage off of Ignis, starting up the stairs. Iris was chattering idly by the adviser’s side, asking some questions here and there, as they reached the entrance.

Ignis made for the hall, but a small hand on his jacket stopped him, so he looked down.

Iris was sheepishly looking away, holding out a small parcel, fitting perfectly in her palm.

‘Is it for… me, Iris?’ Ignis asked going to one knee, and took the gift.

‘Well, I just… I know they’re not very good,’ she stammered, holding out another similarly wrapped package to her now kneeling brother. ‘I just wanted to give you something. So you don’t forget me!’

Ignis carefully peeled the paper back, revealing a small charm, made from all kinds of leftover fabrics. A small, reddish gem fastened to a biro spring dangled on the figure’s head.

‘It’s a Moogle! It will keep you safe!’ Iris enthused. She produced a last gift and pushed it into the adviser’s hand. ‘This one is for the prince!’

‘Iris, that was very thoughtful of you, but–’ Ignis spoke and could instantly feel Gladio’s eyes on him, the Shield’s posture suddenly stiff. What was that overprotective behemoth thinking? That Ignis would trample all over Iris’ feelings and hard work?

 ‘–as shameful as it is, I didn’t get you anything,’ Ignis admitted. Gladio immediately deflated.

‘That’s OK!’ Iris chuckled, smiling brightly. ’You had lots to do yesterday, right? I’m not mad!

‘Thank you, Iris! It’s beautiful and I shall keep it with me,’ Ignis smiled. If anybody would have looked at Gladio at that precise moment, they would have been able to see the baffled look on his face.

 

There was a bit of awkward quiet, before Iris spoke again.

‘I should get back to the car… Jared is waiting for me…’ she nervously shuffled her feet on the marble floor.

‘Yeah…’ Gladio grunted; but neither sibling was quite ready to say their goodbyes.

‘Can we ‘ave a last photo together…?’ Iris nervously mumbled, getting a well-used compact camera out of her pocket. Gladio’s face bloomed into the biggest smile.

‘Give it here, brat!’ the Shield took it and grabbed Iris in a half-armed hug, pressing their cheeks as close as possible.

‘Ignis, you too! Please!’ Iris said, snagging a handful of the closest piece of clothing and dragged Ignis into the picture. Ignis went willingly. He predicted tears anyways at the end of this and he would not be the one to make her cry. Well, not sooner than inevitable.

Ignis tried really hard not to look completely awkward in the photo. He probably failed.

‘Thank you guys! I–!’ Ah, and there came the tears. ‘I promi–promised myself, I wah–wah–wouldn’t cry!’

‘Hey, stop it, or I’m gonna start as well!’ Gladio threatened, as he scooped up Iris in his arms. ‘You just keep on studying and training, and take care of Dad! We will be back before you even know it!’

A farfetched lie, Ignis thought, but whatever Gladio was saying after that seemed to be working. He looked the other way, tuning out their voices in lieu of some privacy. He himself already said his goodbyes to the only person who would probably lift an eyebrow, if Ignis just went missing one day. He told his uncle that he had to go away on official Crown’s business. His uncle, perfectly able to put two and two together, only nodded in the light of yesterday’s accident and wished him luck. There were no heartfelt hugs and definitely no tears. It was not their style.

Ignis was pulled back into the present as Iris said goodbye hugging the both of them outside the Citadel doors and skipped down the steps, turning back around occasionally to wave at them. Ignis glanced sideways at Gladio, watching his sister disappear out the gates. He was still smiling brightly, but his eyes were sad and stayed like that all the way up to the king’s residence.

Cor was standing beside the black, crown issued car; boot full of baby stuff. Ignis was standing awkwardly a few steps from the vehicle. Nothing to do, nobody to say goodbye to. Clarus on the other hand had a very hurried talk with his son. Regis let them. His king was obviously stalling, but who could fault him for wanting to elongate these minutes as much as possible?

Clarus finally gave his son a bear hug and looked at Cor. The Marshal only nodded in Regis’ direction. Clarus sighed, his chest rising and falling in an exaggerated fashion once. He looked like a man stepping onto the gallows, and Cor was grateful he wasn’t the one to break up the king and the prince. He waited patiently with the boys as Regis and his Shield descended the steps.

‘Ignis, Gladiolus! I’m aware I’ve placed a great burden on you by selfishly putting the care of the prince in your hands. You have my eternal gratitude. I shall forever be in your debt for guiding my son and remaining at his side.’ The king kissed Noctis on the forehead for the last time and handed him over to Ignis.

‘Walk tall, my son…’

 

Regis was still rooted to the Citadel steps minutes after the black car disappeared from view; Clarus’ arm around his shoulders. His Shield nudged him gently.

‘Let’s get you inside…’

Regis only hummed, eyes still trained at the spot where his son vanished from his life, as Clarus steered him up the staircase.

 

The sandy, barren lands of Leide slowly gave way to Duscae’s wetlands as the travellers neared their destination. The air around got colder, not only with the dampness engulfing the area, but with the sun’s light slowly waning. Ignis assumed they must be quite close; still, they decided to make a bit of a shortcut, straying from the road. Not much mind you, but better safe than sorry. He would take their chances with random wildlife, rather than the infamous daemons, crawling about after sundown. Although the sightings were rare in these parts, one could never know. This was, in the end, uncharted territory for the both of them.

He saw Gladio strap a one handed sword in-between his bags back at the border, and he himself had a pair of daggers, just in case. It should all be fine.

Ignis assumed they would have reached the cottage by now, had Noctis not started to rub his face against Ignis’ chest some hours ago; searching for something that he would most definitely _not_ find there. So, they had a “lunchbreak” for a second time and now, Noctis was soundly sleeping in a sling strapped to Ignis’ chest. He hoped the prince would stay that way until they finished this horrific journey.

Gladio trudged beside him on his own chocobo, sighing again. And again. Ignis had half a mind to push the Shield off the bird and leave him.

’My ass is killing me!’ Gladio whined. Again. Ignis stopped counting the man’s complaints some hours ago. ‘It sure was way more comfortable in Cor’s car… He should have dropped us off at the cottage. Or we should have gotten a car! Or at least a motorcycle.’

‘So you have said. Multiple times. Sadly, chocobos are still all we’ve got,’ Ignis answered, as coolly as possible. ‘And for the record, I’m not letting Noctis near one of those death-traps, so that’s a no to ever getting a motorcycle.’

‘How are chocobos better?’

‘Chocobos are intelligent animals, for one; which is more than I can say about half the motorcyclists.’

Gladio only snorted in answer.

The sparse under growth started to blend into the looming evergreens, but it was still easy to manoeuvre. Ignis was fairly sure, that they were getting close to their destination.

Suddenly, Gladio perked up. Ignis looked around for any sign of danger, but couldn’t detect what got the Shield on high alert.

‘Did you hear that?’

‘Hear what, exactly?’ Ignis strained to listen for whatever sound the other was hearing, but couldn’t really make out anything. Or maybe… was that crying?

Gladio stopped. Ignis halted two steps later.

‘Gladiolus? Time’s a bit of a factor here–!’ Ignis was instantly shushed. And then mortified by it. Gladio got off his chocobo, reflexively patting the bird in a soothing manner all the while checking the forest around them, listening intently.

Ignis really wanted to remind him that the sun was setting and they probably should be well on their way and not searching the undergrowth for… whatever it was Gladiolus heard.

Noctis wriggled around a bit in his sling, doubtlessly smearing even more sleepy-baby-saliva on Ignis’ shirt, but quieted down just as soon. Which was all very well in Ignis’ books. The only thing worse, than traveling through the darkening forest of the Malacchi hills would be traveling through the darkening forest of the Malacchi hills with a wailing infant. That certainly would draw some attention; the unwanted kind. Not that any kind of attention would be preferable in this situation.

Ignis shuddered at this chain of thought. Or maybe the cooling weather. He looked up, mouth poised to tell Gladiolus to get back on the chocobo, but the man was gone. Before he could even devise a plan on how to best lecture the Shield on his irresponsible behaviour, Gladiolus emerged from between some bushes, holding a bundle in his hands, rocking it gently. The bundle was crying softly.

‘No.’

Gladio stopped in his tracks. The incredulous look he shot Ignis was akin to a kick to the spine, but was nowhere as dreadfully chilling, as the threatening steps Gladio took towards him, the surprised look melting from his face and looking more and more like rage.

‘What the f— ’ The sentence turned into a very elongated hissing sound, as Gladio reeled back the cuss that was about to fly in Ignis’ direction. ‘What do you mean, “ _no_ ”?’

‘I meant, put it back where you found it!’ It came out shrill and slightly panicky.

‘Put the _baby_ back? In the abandoned, crumbling shack? With nightfall this close?’ Gladio asked, getting evermore closer to Ignis. The menacing look on his face did not help the feeling of panic bubbling up Ignis’ throat. ‘Are you out of your fricking mind?!’

Ignis was speechless. He didn’t quite mean it like that, but what on Eos was Gladiolus thinking? He probably wasn’t at all.

‘Yeah, didn’t think so,’ he scoffed, not bothering to wait for a reply and got on his chocobo with more grace and tact then anybody with a small baby bundled in their arm should.

‘Gladiolus, you cannot just take that baby with you! What if it was left there for a reason? What if its parents come ba–!?’

‘Ignis!’ the harsh call of his name startled Ignis out of his rant and he locked eyes with Gladio. ‘They are… not going anywhere anymore, believe me,’ the shield dejectedly stated.

Oh.

Ignis had so many questions, but was very well aware that this was neither the time nor the place. He looked over at Gladiolus, sitting on his chocobo with – heavens save them! – another baby in his protective grip. He looked wrung out. They were both drained, Ignis realised, mentally and physically, but that certainly couldn’t be an excuse for his insensitive behaviour just seconds ago. Ignis absentmindedly adjusted the sling around his body, placing a hand on the sleeping Noctis before speaking in the most composed tone he could manage.

‘I assume there is no helping them?’ he asked and Gladio shook his head in answer. ‘Let us get a move on then. We should be fairly close. Discussing all this will have to wait until we are in the safety of some walls.’

‘Yeah…’ Gladio nodded absentmindedly, attention mostly turned to the baby in his arms, rather than Ignis.

They started a slow gallop to their soon to be home.

The house was not much to look at. One wouldn’t even want to call it a house. One half of it appeared to have been built from or covered with wooden boards, all in a questionable state after years and years of neglect. Some of the shutters hung at awkward angles from their hinges and the small porch leading to the front door was littered with debris, probably carried there by stormy winds. At least the windowpanes seemed to be intact and the door was still in place.

‘Jolly,’ was all Ignis said, sounding anything but happy.

‘You can say that again.’ Gladio stared at the disaster zone that was their new home, while not really looking at anything in particular. He was afraid if he looked and started to categorise all the things that must be done, so this hellhole can be called habitable… He quickly shook his head. ‘C’mon, let’s get inside!’

 

Ignis gulped and he felt his looming breakdown inch closer and closer.

No, let’s not! Let’s get back to the comforting streets of the Crown City and forget about this whole debacle, his mind screamed, but instead he adjusted his glasses and silently followed Gladiolus to the front door.

The key slid into the lock flawlessly, the door opened an inch and– That was it. The door opened an inch. Gladio rammed into it two times before almost falling in, face first. Thankfully, he seemed to be very well coordinated, so there was no face-planting and no squashing unassuming babies. There was a distinct click of a light switch and weird, yellowy light flooded the house.

‘Hey, Ignis! Our luck is looking up!’ Gladio cheered. ‘At least we have electricity!’

‘Superb; one thing holds true to what we have been promised.’

‘C’mon, would you rather sit in the dark? Admit it; creepy house in the middle of the woods with electricity beats creepy house in the middle of the woods without electricity, any time!’

Gladio spun around, taking in his surroundings before zooming in on something that looked suspiciously like a sofa under a cover. The cloth went flying, revealing a lumpy mess of cushions in a flurry of fine dust.

‘I haven’t really thought this through,’ Gladio coughed turning around. Ignis rolled his eyes. Gladio must have still deemed it satisfactory, because he put the baby down right in the middle as soon as there was nothing flying around.

The little bundle gurgled happily as Gladiolus tickled it with one finger, before going back to inspect the front door.

‘I don’t think that’s sanitary,’ Ignis observed.

‘Well, I can’t really do anything with a baby glued to my arms…’ Gladio quipped back, puttering away at the door. ‘I don’t know about you– ‘, something screeched under Gladio’s hand, ‘–but I really want to turn in for the night and I’d prefer to do it behind locked doors.’

‘A sensible thought…’ Ignis mused. ‘Although I highly doubt any of us will be getting too much sleep with two infants under the roof.’

He walked over to the sofa; it was high-time he took a closer look at the little foundling.

He certainly wasn’t prepared for the view that greeted him. Ignis usually wasn’t one to swoon over sweet things, but even he had to admit that the baby was out-of-this-world cute. Of course, he was no teenage girl to squeal at the sight, so all he said was a flabbergasted:

‘This is no baby, it’s a chocobo chick.’

Gladio popped up behind him, looking over Ignis’ shoulder.

‘Heh, never thought you could be funny Scientia! But you’re kinda right; I mean look at that hair!’ he ruffled the baby’s blond tufts. That earned him some more happy gurgling. ‘Let’s call it Choco!’

Ignis reared back.

‘First off, Gladiolus, that is a preposterous idea! Just imagine the cruel harassment such a name would evoke! And second— you were joking…’ Ignis concluded lamely. He could feel his cheeks getting hot.

‘Nice of you to catch on,’ Gladio laughed, slapping Ignis on the back good heartedly. Noctis did not really appreciate the jostling and deemed it appropriate to retaliate with some whimpers that blossomed into a full on wailing-party.

Ignis barely held back an indignant sigh true to his years, as he untangled the sling from his body and put Noctis down beside the other babe. As if on cue, its cute freckled face scrunched up and the young men could now enjoy the crying in stereo.

‘So, bottles or nappies?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Do you want to feed them, or change the nappies? They probably need both, it’s been quite some time since we last stopped, and based on the… whiff, I would say your foundling is in quite a state.’

The horrified scowl on Gladio’s face clearly told Ignis, that he would rather not do any of those tasks.

‘Do I have to…?’ Gladio asked meekly. Ignis would have found it, well, adorable, would he not be this irritated. Would you imagine, the all buff Shield of the royal family, shying back from leaking diapers? What did Gladiolus think; that Ignis will be the picture perfect nanny to the prince, while he ran around flexing his biceps?

Voicing this exact thought changed Gladio’s awkward smile into a leer.

‘So you like it when I’m flexing my biceps?’ he asked. He even had the audacity to waggle his eyebrows! A truly ridiculous gesture, no doubt inherited from Lord Amicitia. Ignis caught the older Shield waggling them at Regis, when he thought nobody was looking.

‘Nappies it is, then.’ Ignis vindictively decided. ‘Be a dear and get the bags from the chocobos; I shall see if the kitchen is in any way usable.’

‘Oh, come on!’ Gladio cried, petulantly elongating the last word. Ignis ignored him.

 

Gladio imagined spending his teenage years and hopefully early twenties training and getting laid as much as possible. He calculated, that with any luck, he had at least another ten years, before his sworn duty consumed his every waking moment, just like it consumed his father’s. Take care of Noctis, have a family of his own and if he was very-very lucky, retire at some point. Or, you know, die in a horrifyingly bloody way, saving his king. Whichever came first.

Instead of implementing this genius plan, he found himself living in the middle of nowhere, with a stick-up-his-ass adviser for company. Oh, and babies. Babies! This was torture. Well, mostly the stick-up-his-ass adviser part. The babies were cute.

Ignis’ muffled ‘Chop-chop!’ coming from the general area of the kitchen (probably) ended Gladio’s agonising inner monologue and he trotted outside for their belongings with an irritated grunt.

There were a few smaller ones with Noctis’ baby stuff, a very retro looking leather bag and Gladio’s sports bags. Back on the Citadel steps it seemed like a _lot_ , but considering they didn’t know how long their self-imposed exile will last…now Gladio felt like they did not pack nearly enough. Who knows how long they will stay here? It was equally possible that King Regis will come up with a solution in a month and they all can go back to Insomnia or that they will spend the rest of their lives as forest hermits.

Well, who knows, maybe the Chancellor will just collapse and die, and the curse will lift? Highly unlikely, but Gladio always felt it was better to uphold an optimistic outlook.

By the time he got back with their bags Ignis was furiously scrubbing the kitchen counter.

‘We seem to have clean water flowing through the pipes. Well, it’s clean _now_. Will wonders never cease…’

Gladio wasn’t sure if the guy was being sarcastic or if this was the maximum level of happiness he could produce, but whatever. Water was good.

Upset, crying babies, not so much.

‘Gods, tone it down you little goblins!’ Gladio cried mock-exasperatedly while fishing out two nappies from one of the bags. He thought he might have heard Ignis snicker.

Gladio trudged over to the old sofa with all the bravery of a man facing down a behemoth with sandwich skewers. It couldn’t be that hard, now could it? He had to change Iris’ diapers that one time, but the years that passed since dimmed all his remaining memory of the task. Not so much the memory of his father’s amused face upon beholding the mess Gladio made.

‘Alright Princess, let’s sort you out,’ he told the crying Noctis while unbuttoning his onesie and, after a few tries, relieving him of the unspeakable evil that was his nappy. ‘Oh my...’ he groaned, ‘this is so not in my contract.’ He fished out a used bag, one-handed, to use as an impromptu bin and tossed the stinking package in it.

‘One down, one to go...’ he sighed and reached for the other baby. He really should name it, referring to it as “ _the baby_ ” was getting kind of annoying. Gladio wasn’t even sure if it was a boy or a girl; with that angelic, freckled face and gold hair, it was pretty much fifty-fifty.

Well, that mystery solved itself pretty quickly, as he untangled the baby from its makeshift swaddling clothes and removed the piece of cotton haphazardly tied around its underside. Nasty. Noctis was still crying.

‘Congratulations, it’s a boy...’ Gladio murmured. His eyes strayed over the mess, trying to find a way to sort the little guy out. Maybe he should bathe him? Something must be done about all that redness down there, that looked all kinds of painful. At least he wasn’t crying anymore. The occasional whimper, but otherwise, the little guy seemed to be fascinated with his own knuckles which he was munching on. Or probably salivating around would be a more fitting description. Gladio entertained the thought of showing Noctis’ fist in the boy’s mouth as well, maybe that would shut him up.

A weird, surgical tape kind of material was wrapped around the babe’s right wrist; something barely readable scribbled on the surface.

‘Hey, you don’t have to worry about naming the baby!’ Gladio hollered.

‘You really should not give it a name, that’s a sign of attachment...’ Ignis strolled into the room, drying his hands on a tea towel. Where did he get one, Gladio wondered?

‘I did not. His late parents did, I guess. Or whoever that was there in the shack,’ Gladio answered, motioning to the tape. He shuddered at the memory. ‘It’s Prompto.’

‘A peculiar name...’ Ignis mused.

‘Like we are one to talk...’ Gladiolus snorted. His mother named him after a flower, for the Six’s sake. Although he had to admit, he liked it. It sounded fierce.

‘I suppose you are right,’ Ignis noted. ‘Is this all you could do?’ he then asked, squinting at the babies.

Gladio felt a vein pop. He took a deep breath.

‘I tried, okay? I don’t really know anything about this.’ It probably came out a bit more aggressive than Gladio intended, but he couldn’t help it. He really tried to keep a level head, but this situation was hard on the both of them and Ignis didn’t really try to make it easier. Or at least he didn’t look like he did, walking around all snobbish and making remarks… But, the both of them getting frustrated just wasn’t gonna cut it. Gladio gripped every ounce of the self-discipline he drilled into himself over the years and went for what he hoped would ease the tension a bit.

‘I only had to change Iris’ diapers once, ya’know? It was a disaster! My sister didn’t stop fidgeting, everything was everywhere–! And my father still brings it up sometimes…’

‘That’s… quite all right,’ Ignis answered, a bit confused. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend.’ Gladio just nodded. Well, at least the adviser knew how to say sorry, he thought to himself. Ignis picked out a few more items from the baby bag, telling Gladio what they were and why they needed them. He quickly cleaned up Noctis and Gladio tried to memorize what to do, in what order. Now that he was shown the ropes, it really was no witchcraft. It also helped that apparently Ignis was a natural at teaching people. Noctis was in a clean diaper, onesie buttoned back up in no time.

The adviser vanished into the kitchen for a moment or so, before coming back with a bottle. He carefully placed it on the sofa and scooped Noctis up, who in his surprise, stopped the crying a bit.

‘Now then!’ Ignis swiftly placed the baby in Gladio’s arm, which came up in a protective cradle on instinct. Huh, would you look at that. Ignis handed him the bottle as well.

’I presume you know how to handle the rest. I shall see to our guest here.’

He stepped over to Prompto, who was still preoccupied with trying to dissolve his own fists in baby saliva.

‘Goodness!’ Ignis gasped. ‘That’s deplorable...’

In a matter of a minute, Prompto was mostly cleaned out of the soiled clothes he came bundled in and was lying on a clean towel, gazing at who-knows-what happily.

Ignis stuffed everything in the impromptu bin bag, closing it effectively. Noctis was still vehemently stuffing his face with baby formula.

‘It’s time for a bath!’ Ignis exclaimed and took Prompto to the kitchen, Gladio trailing behind with the prince in his arm.

‘You’re not gonna stuff him in a pot, are you?’ Gladio asked jokingly and leaned on the kitchen counter beside the adviser.

‘Don’t be absurd. There’s a perfectly clean kitchen sink here... well, considering the circumstances, that is.’

‘I’m sure you did your best.’

The mentioned sink was slowly filling up with warm water. Very slowly, Gladio noted; he would have to check that out tomorrow. Not that he was a born handy-man, far from it, but he knew a thing or two. If he ever got back to Insomnia, he really should thank Jared for that knowledge.

‘How do you know so much about babies?’

‘Baby books,’ Ignis said, checking the water temperature.

‘What?’

‘When I was informed of the Prince’s birth and that I certainly was to be his Chamberlain and retainer, I read a lot of baby books,’ came the exasperated reply.

‘But Noctis had a dozen nannies...’ Gladio mused.

‘One can never know, Gladiolus. It came handy in the end; we would be certainly doomed if we were to rely on your abysmal knowledge of new-borns and infants,’ Ignis finished with a sly smirk.

‘Bite me, Scientia,’ he shot back jokingly. Noctis finished his bottle and was now trying his best at keeping his eyes open. He succeeded only halfway, looking like a faulty doll, one lid up, one lid slightly closed, which amused Gladio to no end.

‘Burp him, before he falls asleep,’ Ignis absentmindedly handed him the tea towel.

‘Right...’ Gladio took the towel in hand, looking between it and the baby. ‘What exactly should I…’

Ignis placed Prompto from the sink onto a towel; took the tea towel back without saying a word, draped it over Gladio’s shoulder, and arranged Noctis in the right position.

‘There you go!’ he exclaimed before turning back the other baby.

By the time his Highness finally produced something akin to a burp (which in baby language obviously was a word for vomiting formula all over Gladio’s shoulder), Prompto was squeaky clean, being fluffed up in a towel and looking at Ignis, as if hypnotized.

‘I don’t think anything of Noctis’ will fit him... but, desperate times and all that. Get me a onesie, would you?’

The prince was abandoned on the sofa yet again, now mostly asleep, while Gladio rummaged around in the bags. He took out and examined a few items, in hopes of finding something smaller by chance but everything seemed to be the same. He settled on a light blue piece and handed it over with a sigh.

‘These are all the same...’

‘Thought so... we will have to settle for functionality, over aesthetics. Would you please hand me the spare bottle? He must be starving.’

When Gladio returned with the formula, Prompto was all dressed up. Well, the onesie was hanging off of him, the sleeves rolled up so he could move around his chubby baby fingers; but at least he wouldn’t get a cold.

‘If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say this is not your first chocobo-ride...’

‘Well, who knows? I might be father to many illegitimate babies...’

‘Yeah, right...’ Gladio laughed. ’So, what’s the plan here?’ Ignis looked up from watching Prompto devour the contents of the bottle.

‘How should I know? You were the one so very adamant about bringing the baby here with us. My guess is that we, or more likely one of us, brings him to the authorities as soon as possible. Even better would be if we could leave him at a populated area, considering the… circumstances. No need to involve ourselves in anything suspicious this early on. Or preferably, at all.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Are _you_ serious? What have you been hoping for? That we keep both babies and live happily ever after in the woods for the next sixteen years? This is no fairy tale Gladiolus, make no mistakes.’

‘I know!’ Gladio growled. And again with that tone… Good job, he congratulated himself. ‘I know, just...’

‘Gladiolus,’ Ignis interrupted. ‘We barely have the means to take care of Noctis. It’s not without reason that we only have the allowance, that we do. We have to stay inconspicuous. Two young men, with two babies is the exact opposite, I’m afraid.’

‘Opposite...’ Gladio pondered. ‘Opposite, that’s it!! What will the Empire be looking for, when Ardyn realises that Noctis is gone?’

‘If they will even bother to search for him. Maybe the Chancellor is so confident in the curse, that he won’t lift a finger and just wait it out. But if they really want it fulfilled sooner and _if_ they do come after the prince… I assume their first choice will be some noble families with boys Noctis’ age...’

‘Yeah, maybe, I’m no mastermind, so I’ll just take your word for it,’ Gladio rattled on. ‘But you know what they _won’t_ be searching for? Two broke-ass dudes with _two_ boys Noctis’ age!’

Ignis just stared at him.

‘Are you drunk?’

‘What? No! Just think about it, this is the perfect disguise! What best way to keep Noctis safe?’

‘Gladiolus...’

‘Stop right there, please! Let’s just... let’s just sleep on it all right? Today was exhausting; a lot happened–! We are both tired, we shouldn’t make decisions like this right now, yeah?’

‘...very well...’ Ignis sighed. Some rest was well in order, and with both babies fed and almost asleep they had a good chance to get some shut eye themselves. At least a few hours.

‘Hold Prompto please for a minute and I shall put the …cot…’ Ignis looked over their bags. ‘…together– Where’s the cot?’

‘We had one? Never even seen it,’ Gladio shrugged. Ignis just stared off into space for a minute.

‘Wonderful!’ he concluded with a sigh. The Marshal will be really surprised when he finds a foldable baby bed and who knows what else in the boot of his car. ‘Well, the sofa is a health hazard, so that’s out of the question. Any ideas?’

‘Come on, it’s not that dirty! It’s enough if we drape something over it, right?’ Gladio asked, scratching the back of his neck absently. Ignis looked at him as if he just suggested they put the babies outside on the front steps. ‘OK, then, I guess, it’s not…?’

‘It’s the height, that bothers me. I don’t know about you, but I do not wish to wake up and see them roll about the floor,’ Ignis elaborated. ‘And yes, it is _that_ dirty.’

Well, Gladio almost offered to find a cardboard box somewhere, but then decided that his humour was not appreciated and he would love to see another day, _thankyouverymuch_.

‘Yeah, that would be bad…’ Gladio agreed, instead of offering up any more ideas about temporary baby beds. ‘On that note, where are _we_ gonna sleep?’

Ignis looked absolutely taken aback.

‘I– must admit, I was a bit preoccupied with gathering up necessities for Noctis and have not really thought about our own needs…’ he answered uncertainly.

Gladio really wanted to tease the adviser about forgetting something as basic as sleeping, but he refrained.

‘Well, lucky you, I have brought two sleeping bags.’

‘Two…?’

‘No offense, but you did not really look like a camping-kinda guy. And I had no idea what will be waiting for us, so…’ Gladio grinned.

‘Glad you had the foresight, Gladiolus.’

The Shield hummed approvingly and went around checking out the place in more detail.

Not that there was all that much to check; the floor they occupied consisted of a living room and a kitchen on the larger side; almost one big room, with only an archway separating them. Although there were just a few strategically placed small windows on the front of the house, it seemed no expenses were spared in the back. Both rooms’ back-walls were adorned with large panes of glass, looking out onto the forest.

Gladio wondered what kind of magic was still holding the moth-eaten curtains on their rods. The kitchen cupboards seemed to be in a usable condition and in the far corner by the windows was a stack of something or other, covered up in the same kind of fabric the sofa was. Table and chairs, Gladio noted, peeking under the cloth.

Stepping back through the archway, he noticed a fireplace hiding snugly under the stairs leading upstairs. Huh. He tried to look up the chimney, but it proved a far-fetched idea even with the small torch he kept in his pocket. He couldn’t see shit.

‘Well, fireplace is out, until we can check for any blockage,’ he announced, striding over to the last remaining to-be-explored part of the house. Three doors, evenly spaced on the front wall.

‘That could prove troublesome,’ Ignis hummed. ‘It is already starting to get nippy, and we are barely after sundown.’

‘Yeah, well, we will have to rough it tonight.’ Gladio opened the left door, and closed it just as quickly, the smell making him give off a whole body shudder.

‘I found the toilet!’ If Gladio had to make a guess, it was probably frequented by a voretooth. He said a quick prayer to any Astral willing to listen, so he could barter cleaning duty for, well, whatever Ignis wanted, really. The adviser could have his firstborn…or his kidney. Although Gladio was not sure Ignis would go for either of those options. He went to open the middle door.

‘And this is apparently the doorway to hell…’ he informed Ignis, staring into the darkness. His hand found a switch just beside the doorframe, but nothing happened. Well, then, a mystery for tomorrow. The last door hid the bathroom, made absolutely creepy in the blinking light of the dying lightbulb, but Gladio could make out a sink, a half broken towel rail and a tub, which, definitely has seen better days. 

‘Bathroom?’ Ignis asked from behind him, peering over Gladio’s shoulder. He made a disgusted noise. ‘Well, it certainly was, at some point in the past…’

‘Yeah,’ Gladio agreed. ‘Well, that concludes our grand tour of the base level; I don’t wanna know what’s upstairs. There’s only so much disappointment a man can take in one day.’

The look Ignis shot him said quite clearly, that the only disappointment in the adviser’s day was Gladio himself.

‘We are certainly not going to sleep without checking the upper floor first. After you, Gladiolus!’

‘Paranoid much?’ Gladio tried the switch. Another no-go. He fished his torch back out and lit the way up.

‘Thorough,’ Ignis answered curtly, following him up the dusty stairs, which ended in a narrow corridor with two doors.

‘Well here goes nothing!’ Gladio opened the first one and peered inside, torch in hand. ‘Oh, hey look; a mattress!’

He patted the wall and flipped the light switch he found. Success! There was indeed a double mattress wrapped in a see-through cover, and some cardboard boxes. Gladio imagined the babies stuffed in a box, like abandoned puppies and snickered.

‘Pray tell, what is so funny?’ Ignis asked from behind, his tone anything but amused.

‘Sorry, nothing!’ Gladio blurted. ‘Should we check the other room?’

Turned out, the other room was even more stacked, than the previous one. That will be fun sorting through…

‘So, the entirety of our sleeping arrangement possibilities consists of the floor and two sleeping bags, am I correct?’

‘Well yeah, but we could bring the mattress down,’ Gladio nodded. ‘Or come upstairs to sleep?’

‘I would say a smaller space would be more beneficial, especially since we do not have heating,’ Ignis countered. ‘But the amount of dirt up here is despicable. Perhaps we could check the contents of these boxes, maybe we could find some bedding.’

In the end, they decided to indeed bring the mattress downstairs, so Gladio schlepped it down the stairs on his own, while Ignis rummaged through the old boxes in hopes of finding something useful.

Gladio looked over to the sofa. There were no babies on the floor, both boys asleep on the sketchy cushions. He looked at the stupid mattress in its stupid cover, and sighed thinking about his own comfy bed. What he wouldn’t give to be back in his own room, chatting with his baby sister, just like last night… The thought of how Iris would absolutely love every minute of this made Gladio smile. His sis always cherished their camping trips together; the few that they had…

In the middle of those melancholy thoughts a sudden idea hit Gladio and he set out to work.

 

‘Unfortunately, I only found one blanket, that we could u–,’ Ignis announced as he stepped into the living room a good ten minutes later, but fell speechless as soon as he looked around. A tent stood now in the middle of the room. A tent!

‘Gladiolus…?’

The Shield’s grinning face popped out from between the flaps, seemingly very pleased with his handiwork.

‘Shoes off, come in!’ Gladio instructed. Ignis blinked dumbfounded before complying. Gladio managed apparently somehow to stuff the mattress inside the tent, the babies set up by the left wall, safely bundled in one of their sleeping bags while the other was zipped apart, covering the bed as a makeshift duvet.

‘This is certainly… unconventional,’ Ignis admitted, ‘but I quite like it, I must say.’

Gladio beamed at him (although, not even Gladio himself understood why this stupid happiness washed over him at Ignis’ acknowledgement).

‘How did…you…’

‘Oh, this is a pop-up tent. No hassle, no hammering. Comfy, no dust and it’ll be pretty warm in here,’ Gladio grinned and zipped up the flaps. ‘Come on, I don’t know about you, but this day was more than eventful enough for me. Time to catch some z’s!’

And they did. For, at least two and a half hours. That’s when Ignis woke to Noctis’ desperate “baa! baa!”-s, peeled himself out from under Gladio’s arm, –which, how and when did that happen? – and resigned himself to babysitting.

The first night without their respective sons found the king of Lucis and his Shield in Regis’ private quarters. The only thing on the small table between them was a bottle of Accordian whiskey. A bottle of very good quality Accordian whiskey, and at least twenty years old to boot. It could have been disinfectant, for all Clarus cared; at this point he couldn’t really read the label, even if he would have wanted to. Most of the liqueur has been missing from the bottle.

He has been keeping it ever since they returned from Altissia ten years ago. They wanted to crack it open many a times, but… life and duties somehow always intervened. This was as good a night as any to drink it, Clarus decided before turning up on the king’s doorstep earlier that night. There was a bit of hesitation and some amount of reasoning, but Clarus fought his way into the king’s chambers in the end.

‘Gods, I still can’t believe Weskham made such a rookie mistake…’ Regis laughed.

‘Well, if he could ‘ave kept his stupid eyes off of Camelia for two secon’s…’

‘Ah, he ne’er could… he tried to act tough an’ everything… but he was smitten stupid…’

‘Yeah, well, then suits him right. Let’s be highness–’ and there went Clarus’ ability to speak properly. He looked accusingly at his empty tumbler. ‘Honest! – that sneaky bastard would have just faked something and stayed in Altissia anyway.’

Regis snickered agreeing into his glass, then drank the whiskey in one go. Clarus refilled it immediately. He had an inkling they won’t stop until the bottle was empty. If they kept up this tempo, that moment would come sooner, rather than later.

‘When was the las’ time we could– when we had a whole evenin’ to ourselves,’ Regis mused.

‘Well, pro’ly back when we, you know– you know, when we toured Lucis together. Fun times.’

‘Tha’s been ten years ago Clarus… our lives cannot be that sad…’ Regis tried to focus on his Shield’s face, but Clarus could see he wasn’t really succeeding. He drank again.

‘Do you think… Aulea would be mad at me… would she be alive?’

That’s a really stupid hypothetical question for a drinking night, Clarus thought. The goal was to preferably forget the last few days, at least for a few hours, not to open up old wounds, but hey, that’s drinking for you.

‘All righ’, look, I don’ think– this was not your fault at all, you know that right? Nobody’s mad at you–’

‘I am aware… I jus’ can’t help but think about how different things would be if–‘

‘I know; I know…’

And Clarus did know. The countless scenarios in which he imagined his late wife– what she would do, what she would say… how she would look at their kids now... would she be proud?

‘Do you think it was a m’stake? Sending ‘em away?’

Clarus didn’t really had to think about the answer. They both would feel the loss of their sons and all the moments they will miss out on. The whole situation was as far from fair as it could go. Unthinkably cruel on Regis, losing his only family members in such quick succession. But was it a mistake to go for the most feasible option?

‘No,’ Clarus answered. Regis emptied the bottle into their glasses.

‘I r’lly hope you are right...’

Twenty minutes and an empty bottle later Clarus –swaying on his feet– helped the barely awake king to his bed. He had half a mind to just dump him on the mattress and leave him to his fate, but something urged him on to wrestle Regis out of the rest of his stupid royal raiment and under the duvet, before saying ‘fuck it’ and abandoning the snoring king for the sweet embrace of the nearby sofa.

Oh, how this will suck in the morning, Clarus thought as he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, how you liked the newest addition to the "family"?  
> Thank you for reading, see you next Wednesday!  
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto freaks everyone out, Ignis "knows people" and Ifrit’s flaming ball sacks are mentioned. Two times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, it's Wednesday so it's update time! Yet again, there is quite a few things happening, so it's a bit longish. Hope you don't mind x'D  
> And as always, thank you for all the comments and kudos, they always make my day! And thanks to amiyade for keeping on being my beta!  
> Onto the chapter! (╯°□°）╯.+:｡

Gladio really hoped to wrap up this chimney cleaning business as soon as possible. It looked like it could rain any minute; although that has been the case ever since they woke up. Wetlands indeed. Getting on top of the roof was tricky enough as it was, he didn’t wanna risk slipping on the way down.

They found the boiler room that morning, so the house was heating up nicely, but Ignis insisted they be done with the fireplace anyways before they start making the cottage liveable. Clever idea, as soot was flying in every which direction down in the living room as Gladio swept the chimney. He did not want to clean this hellhole two times. He also had no idea whatsoever if he was doing the sweeping correctly, but neither did Ignis. They just had to wing it for now.

The boys –to Gladio’s amusement– camped out in a padded cardboard box on a rickety garden bench. Ignis put them on the porch, claiming they could use some fresh air. So, Gladio, naturally scribbled “FOR SALE” on the side and snapped a photo for posterity’s sake. Ignis just shook his head and ushered him up the roof. Gladio shrugged; not his fault the adviser had no sense of humour.

He felt the first drops land on his face, when Ignis came out of the house, with the happy news of an apparently clean chimney.

‘I think we are done, you should come down, Gladiolus.’

‘Don’t have to tell me twice,’ Gladio agreed, sliding down the ladder. He quickly joined Ignis on the porch, sticking his hand out, cool droplets hitting his palm. ‘Is it always gonna be like this here?’

‘Apparently the wintertime brings a bit more rainfall, than usual,’ Ignis sighed. Gladio grunted.

It started falling in earnest.

‘So, Lord Adviser, what’s the plan here?’

Ignis pushed his glasses up with one finger and turned to the Shield. The glint in his eyes honestly scared Gladio.

  

Gladio concluded the next morning, that he was right to be scared. Oh, there was a plan all right. There was, to be perfectly clear, a whole, detailed to do list, put in order so that efficiency was maxed out. Along with Gladio. Gladio definitely was maxed out.

A day later, and here he was, sitting in the kitchen –the clean kitchen! –, bottle feeding Prompto while he himself was occasionally munching on a ration bar, staring at nothing. He didn’t even have the energy to be pissed about not having a proper breakfast. At least Ignis made them an actual dinner last night; from canned stuff, yes, but obviously Ignis was some kind of kitchen magician. Those beans tasted awesome.

The ground-floor started to look good, it was mostly clean, the kitchen sorted, although a bit sparsely furnished; their tent-fort standing proudly in the middle of the living room for now. They still had a long way to go, but Ignis was adamant they finish the rest today. The upper floor could wait.

Prompto’s bottle was almost empty, the boy’s big eyes looking up at Gladio as he slurped down the last of the formula.

‘He’s a real slave driver, isn’t he, Prompto?’ he asked the baby, lightly tickling him with one finger.

‘I can hear you Gladiolus!’ came from the bathroom, where Ignis was probably furiously scrubbing away at something, as per usual.

‘I was talking to Prompto! Stop eavesdroppin’!’ Gladio shouted back. They still did not talk about what they should do about the boy; getting everything to a base level of liveability took priority. Gladio’s finger got briefly caught on the stupid surgical tape wrapped around the baby’s wrist. It was already peeling in some places.

‘Come on little guy, let’s get this off of you.’

 

Ignis almost fell into the tub he was trying to revive when he heard Gladio shout his name. It sounded desperate.

‘Astrals, what did he do…’ Ignis threw down everything and strode into the kitchen. ‘What happe–?’ His eyes fell on the baby’s wrist, Gladio holding it up and staring at it.

There was a tattoo.

A barcode, to be specific. Well this certainly raised a whole lot of questions and complicated things. Ignis touched the tiny wrist, rubbing the skin lightly. Definitely a lasting mark. But to what end? Ignis hummed, a bit taken aback.

Suddenly, his arms were full. Gladio thrust Prompto over, smashed the bottle onto the table top and started pacing.

‘What sadistic fuck tattoos a friggin’ baby?’ he roared. Prompto started crying.

‘Gladiolus!’ Ignis chastised him, rocking Prompto carefully, right hand curling over the baby’s head, as if trying to shield his delicate ears. Gladio opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly; ruffling his short hair in distress. Noctis, probably having a sixth sense for these kind of situations, started softly whining in the tent.

‘Don’t “Gladiolus” at me; how could anyone do something this cruel? And who knows what else? This is pissing me off!’

‘Well, go and be _pissed off_ somewhere else, please! You are upsetting the boys.’

Gladio stared into Ignis’ eyes, disgust plain in his features, then stormed out. He did not hear Ignis sigh from the front door slamming shut behind him.

 

Gladio resumed his pacing outside. Not only was he riled up by the fact that some sick fuck out there hurt Prompto and who knows who else, but Ignis’ clinical indifference certainly made his blood boil. He wanted to punch him in his stupid face. Truth be told, he wanted to punch Prompto’s previous caretakers in the stupid face even more, but obviously they were not available. So he channelled his pent up energy on doing his morning training routine. That always helped clear his head.

When he got back inside, Ignis was waiting for him by the table, two steaming mugs in front of him.

‘Typical,’ Gladio huffed as he noticed the tea filters floating in the water. The number of random things Ignis just conjured out of nowhere in the last days was ridiculous.

‘Do you have a secret inter-dimensional pouch I don’t know about?’

‘I’m just naturally good at sticking things into tight spaces. Sit with me?’

Gladio ignored the innuendo and grumblingly obliged. (And no, his lips definitely did not twitch into an involuntary smile.)

‘Are you… feeling better?’ Ignis inquired hesitantly. Gladio looked at him with a stormy expression. ‘I take it that’s a no?’

‘Well, I don’t have the urge to kick people in the face right now, but no; I don’t really feel good,’ Gladio burst out, gripping his mug. Ignis only nodded.

‘Do you?’ Gladio asked.

‘Certainly not,’ Ignis murmured, sipping at his tea with care. ‘The implications of that barcode alone… and the numbers…’ He shuddered.

‘I don’t really follow you,’ Gladio admitted.

‘If you leave out of consideration for a second, that Prompto is an actual living being; what does one need to put a serial number on?’

Gladio was thrown for a second by the weird question, but then it dawned on him.

‘Something that is mass produced,’ he grunted. He liked this conversation less and less. ‘Do you think somebody is… what, manufacturing babies? Or experimenting with them? Why?’

Gladio got up, tea left forgotten and started pacing. Again. Obviously, it was today’s theme…

‘I am merely speculating,’ Ignis muttered. Gladio could feel the adviser’s eyes on him. His walking back and forth probably was not helping matters, but he couldn’t sit on his ass.

‘I can’t even fathom, if this has any political implications, or if it is the work of an individual…’

‘Well I fucking hope it ain’t our side doing this, if this has to do anything with the war,’ Gladio grumbled. He honestly did not know how he would react if this turned out to be something the leadership of Lucis condoned. The leadership, which included his father, as a long standing council member. ‘And we can’t even ask anybody back home now, can we?’

‘Definitely not.’ Ignis took a calming gulp of his tea. ‘What we _can_ do, is review all available information and make a viable plan.’

Gladio felt tea-warmed fingers lightly circle his wrist. He stopped and stared at their hands first, then into Ignis’ eyes.

‘For Prompto’s sake,’ Ignis said. Gladio sat down; his hot-headedness smothered under his protective streak. For all the adviser was insisting on how they did not know each other, Gladio couldn’t help but feel like Ignis was playing him like an instrument he was deeply used to.

‘Alright, you obviously gave this some thought, so spill!’

Ignis pushed his glasses up his nose.

‘I do not wish to make farfetched assumptions, but I think we can be quite sure about a few things. Firstly, somebody out there definitely did not see this baby as a human being. They saw it as a string of numbers. But, whoever took him, did not. They cared about him and maybe even tried to save Prompto, although admittedly, they did not get far…’

Silence settled as Gladio remembered that exactly that saviour’s unburied remains were still out there in the woods. Or…given the local wild life…probably not anymore…

‘How do you know they cared?’ he asked.

‘Gladio, they named him. Not only did they give Prompto a name, they took the effort to label him. It wasn’t enough that they knew it, they wanted everyone else to know as well. You don’t name your pens. You don’t name things you do not care for.’

‘Agh, this is so messed up!’ Gladio leaned back on his chair and scrubbed his neck. ‘Now I want to give Prompto to the authorities even less…’

‘It might prove a risk to Prompto, but we do not really have any options. We still do not have the means to provide proper care for him.’

‘So what, we just plop him down at the nearest rest stop and go on our merry way?’ Gladio really thought Ignis would just give in at that point. He obviously thought wrong.

‘What is he to us? We barely know him and we have our own problems. It might have slipped your memory, but we have a home to build and a prince to bring up. Why do you care Gladiolus?’

Gladio was up in his face in the next blink, one hand in Ignis’ shirt, the other gripping the chair, leaving no way out.

‘Because I’m not a heartless machine, Scientia! Because this is a baby we are talking about and it can’t protect itself from this shitty world! But mainly because I couldn’t look at myself in the fucking mirror if I didn’t at least try to help him!’

Ignis only smiled slightly at his outburst, which really confused Gladio.

‘Have you been testing me?!’ Gladio fumed.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘The fuck you are! Asshole.’ He let go of Ignis with a bit more vehemence than he wanted to and sat back down. He felt slightly offended, but he couldn’t help the tiny smile, that crept onto his face. His anger faded quickly. ‘Sorry. So, we are keeping him?’

‘Language! And yes, we are “keeping him”, Gladiolus.’

Gladio jumped up from his seat, lifted Ignis in a bear hug, as if he weighed nothing and laughed as he spun them around. Ignis was too dumbstruck to even react.

‘I do not mean to dampen your delight, but might I ask why you are so happy about this?’ he asked, as Gladio finally let him back down.

‘I don’t really know,’ Gladio said, rubbing his neck. ‘I guess, it just feels right, y’know?’

‘I suppose…’ Ignis drawled and downed the last of his tea.

  

 ‘I’m going to get him in a second Gladiolus, you can go back to sleep,’ Ignis said without looking up from the table he was sitting at. Gladio looked over at him. Why was he awake, he wondered?

‘It’s all right, I’m awake now anyways.’ Gods, was it hard to wheel himself in an upright position. ‘You just… keep on doing what you’re doing,’ Gladio groaned as he stood up. Ignis hummed in agreement.

‘Hey there, buddy!’ Gladio smiled down unto the saddest baby face ever. No, not even sad, Prompto looked downright despairing. Babies were funny, Gladio thought to himself. They always had such wild emotions. ‘It’s alright, it’s alright!’

Gladio found that snuggling Prompto whenever he woke up in the middle of the night usually helped getting him back to sleep. Well of course only, if him waking up wasn’t “hungry stomach” or “stinky nappy” related. Gladio knew even without Ignis and his baby-book knowledge that babies needed a lot of sleep.  Prompto didn’t get the memo; he was a lively one. Noctis on the other hand, was asleep a lot. Gladio almost made a joke about how the prince was training for what was to come, but that would have been extremely tasteless, even for a joke.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ he asked Ignis, while stroking Prompto’s back gently.

‘I could, but I have to sort out our budget. I have to factor in that we are going through our baby goods twice as fast. The upstairs is in dire need of repairs and we can’t fix everything by ourselves. Even if we could, we need to buy tools and materials. We also have to think about proper furniture; although I think we can salvage most of the old ones for the time being.’

‘Well, we could get some stuff at the Mini-Mart up at the rest stop…’ Gladio offered.

‘Much appreciated, but that will have to wait, I’m afraid. We need to travel to Galdin Quay.’

Gladio blinked at him.

‘Is our budget big enough to have a weekend getaway at the hotel?’ he asked in a hopeful tone. The look Ignis send him back, spoke volumes. Then, he continued scribbling on the piece of paper in front of him.

‘Be happy that we can afford the camping space… I do not plan to while there unnecessarily anyways.’

‘Sooo…’ Gladio swayed a bit with Prompto in his arm. ‘What exactly are we doing there?’

‘We need some papers forged.’

‘Did you really just say what I think you said?’ Gladio chuckled. From the look on his face, Ignis couldn’t fathom why that sounded ridiculous.

‘Why is this so surprising? I happen to… “know a guy”, as you would put it,’ Ignis answered, clearly hackled.

‘You, Ignis Scientia, know a guy?’ Gladio laughed. Prompto made an approving noise. Ignis put the pen down maybe with a bit more force then he intended.

‘Would you kindly stop behaving as if you know anything about me?’ he asked in an even voice, but Gladio could tell that the adviser was getting pretty riled up. ‘We barely know each other. Spending a few days in close quarters doesn’t really give you the right to make assumptions about me.’

Gladio really, really wanted to argue with that. To him, reading Ignis felt like reading a favourite book most of the time, but the adviser had a point. As natural as it felt to Gladio to interpret Ignis, they did not _really_ know each other–so his “reading” just might be off. Gladio needed to plan some serious bro-bonding time.

‘No, you’re right. I’m sorry,’ Gladio said. After all, a good warrior knew how to choose his battles.

‘I… ahm…’ Ignis looked absolutely baffled and Gladio felt extremely pleased with himself. Didn’t see that coming, did he? ‘Thank you…’ he said uncertainly.

‘So, papers?’ Gladio peeked down at the baby, but couldn’t tell if Prompto fell asleep again or not.

‘Yes, for the boys. We left quite in a hurry, so there was no time to get any made for Noctis, that doesn’t say Nox Aeterna Lucis Caelum. Let’s be honest, that was a colossal oversight on my part. And our young Prompto here… well, suffice to say, if we do not want to lose him and be incarcerated the first time we have to bring him to a doctor, he ought to have some legal documents. We are breaking at least a dozen laws just by having him here.’

And wouldn’t that be the most stupid way to muck up the only purpose in their life? Gladio had goose bumps just by thinking about how disappointed his father would be.

‘All right, good thinking,’ Gladio nodded.

‘If I may?’ Ignis looked up, making sure Gladio was paying him attention before continuing. ‘You should take it in consideration not to use your family name. The enemy probably doesn’t know your appearance, but it is common knowledge, that your family is Shield to the kings of Lucis.’

‘You want me to change my name?’ Gladio asked, baffled.

‘Temporarily, of course. And, as I said, it is merely a suggestion.’

‘What about you?’ the Shield asked.

‘Nobody knows that I am the one tasked with Noctis. Aside from the people who were present in the King’s study of course, and neither your father, nor the Marshal would betray the Crown. The Chancellor may have seen me at the ceremony, but I could be anybody as far as he’s concerned.’

‘Fair point.’ Gladio mused. ‘When do you wanna go?’

‘As soon as possible.’ He slightly lifted his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘If you can agree with this plan of action, of course.’

‘Yeah! Yeah, fine by me…’ Gladio muttered, thoughts apparently miles away, still rocking Prompto softly.

‘Gladio?’

‘Hm?’

‘Prompto has fallen asleep; I think you can put him down.’

‘Oh!’ Gladio laid the small boy back down on the mattress –now sans tent–, beside the slumbering Noctis. ‘I hope they stay this… un-fussy,’ he mused looking upon their charges.

‘Let’s hope,’ Ignis smiled tiredly. ‘And “un-fussy” is not a word.’

‘Shut up and come get some sleep!’ Gladio bitched, pulling the adviser away from the table.

Ignis let himself be towed to the mattress and fell asleep as soon as his head hit the bed.

 

“ _As soon, as possible_ ” turned out to be the following day. Gladio woke up to Ignis puttering about, packing a bag and absentmindedly talking to the babies. Well, to Prompto to be precise, as Noctis appeared to be dozing. Again. What the shit was up with that boy…

They both said their ‘Good mornings’ and Gladio somehow stumbled his way to the closest ration bar. Not the most epic breakfast for a growing eighteen-year-old of Gladio’s size, but he was starving.

‘Are you reciting history lessons to the babies? No wonder Noctis fell asleep,’ Gladio noted, crumbs falling all over his soft t-shirt.

‘Well, Prompto seems to be enjoying it,’ Ignis replied, zipping up the bag.

‘Yeah, he’s a baby, I think he would pretty much enjoy it, if you spouted as much as gobbledegook at him.’

‘Touché.’ Ignis went over the baby bags. ‘When will you be ready to depart, Gladiolus?’

‘Whnvr!’

‘I would thank you not to talk with your mouth full,’ Ignis chided him. ‘Also, if you would stop eating on our only map…’

‘It’s perfectly fine, stop grumbling,’ Gladio said, quickly swiping off the stray pieces of oat. ‘A little food stain here and there will give it character…’

They could go about their journey a few ways, he noted. Most optimal situation would be if they had a car, which… yeah, they didn’t. Chocobos are definitely preferred over public transport; no need for eyewitnesses and bored ladies asking them questions on a bus. Was there even public transport out here? Maybe that only worked in Insomnia, Gladio mused.

Ignis asked him something.

‘Scuse me?’ Gladio looked up from his mulling over their options.

‘What route do you propose?’ Ignis asked again, rummaging in another bag.

‘We are pretty close to this road,’ he pointed at the squiggly line next to the ‘X’ that marked their home. ‘We definitely should keep to that. Or at least close to it. We were lucky on our way here, but we shouldn’t risk running around the wilds from now on. Especially not with the babies.’

‘I agree.’ Ignis walked over to the map, shoulders touching Gladio’s and that definitely was no reason for his heart to go “ba-dumm”, but Gladio wrote it up to …not getting any lately.

‘This seems to be a… post of some kind,’ he pointed at a smudged icon, ‘We probably can buy some shit there.’

‘We will certainly need some nourishments. How long do you think it will take?’

‘The whole trip…’ Gladio mused. ‘…if it would be the two of us, I’d say we could there by tonight. With the boys? We will definitely need to make a stop this evening. I’ll get the tent.’

‘The tent?’ Ignis looked up.

‘There are no motels on the way to the Fallgrove,’ Gladio tapped the map. ‘And I don’t think staying in a motel would be a clever thing to do anyways. The less people we meet for now, the better, right?’

‘Ah, I have not thought about that… very clever Gladiolus. We should steer clear of strangers as best as we can, until we have the papers.’

‘See, Ignis, we can agree on things,’ Gladio said in a hearty tone and clapped the adviser on the back. Ignis barely caught himself on the table.

‘Yes, it would seem so…’ he adjusted his glasses, ‘now then, if we are finished with planning, I shall get the boys ready.’

Gladio hummed approvingly, having a last look at the map before pocketing it, while making a mental note to get a spare one, once they get somewhere less rural.

 

As luck, or rather their lack of it would have it, it started to rain not even half an hour into their journey. Not horribly, mind you, and the ever lushly green, though sparse canopy of the Malacchi trees absorbed some of the oncoming drizzle.

The boys were both well bundled up, although Prompto for sure won’t be winning any fashion awards. Gladio and himself were not made of sugar, so Ignis’ worries were minimal there, a little precipitation hasn’t killed anyone. Still, they needed to get out of this weather as soon as possible. Who knew how it would turn. Ignis looked up the generally available information about the region and knew full well, that the chance of any kind of rain was high this time of year. Yet, he forgot to bring any manner of raincoat with them.

He truly was standing on his last legs, if he managed to disregard an obvious fact like this. Ignis was no stranger to a hectic life; all his training sessions, the high-paced studying, the council meetings, the paperwork… It was safe to say, that he spared very little time to spend on himself and especially on resting, even back in the Crown City.

But back in Insomnia, he was not responsible for the life, or Heavens forbid, the death of his prince; he didn’t have to balance the budget and wellbeing of a whole household, he did not have to be a caretaker of two infants and he certainly did not have to share his personal space or his free time with a man he barely knew.

He was slowly working himself into an unforgiving cycle of thoughts, but thank the Six, Gladio decided to come up beside him and broke it off.

‘Ignis, the post we talked about? It should be close…’

‘We certainly should make a stop there, if we can. I cannot tell at all, if this weather is passing, or if it will get worse from now on…’

‘Yeah, same… I guess it will take some time to get used to all this. Nothing like the Crown City, eh?’

Ignis hummed complying and they trotted in the direction of the station, the rain seemingly getting stronger. He could hear Noctis cooing in his sling. At least somebody enjoyed their adventure.

 

‘Howdy, boys!’ a cheerful man in a vibrant yellow raincoat shouted, as soon as they slipped of their chocobos. ‘Leave these beauties to me and off y’all go under the porch before your undies get wet!’

The man, Wiz, as he introduced himself later, carted off their chocobos. He seemed generally welcoming, but obviously crazy about the overgrown birds. The post was decorated with their signature colour; all the awnings and umbrellas, even some parts of the building were painted in a harsh chocobo-yellow.

The shop seemed to hold all kinds of chocobo related knick-knacks and gyhsal green in every form imaginable, both for the birds and for human consumption. Ignis hoped they would be able to procure some of the more traditional items. Or if not, somebody hopefully could point them in the direction of a general store.

The rain obviously wasn’t planning on letting up, so Ignis ordered themselves two Chocobo Club Sandwiches and a Green Smoothie. He would bet his life that it was made from gyhsal greens, but he couldn’t help himself.

‘Where y’all off to, boys?’ Wiz asked, bringing their order.

‘Galdin Quay. Just passing through,’ Ignis quickly explained, before Gladio even could open his mouth.

‘Right unfortunate weather to be travelling in, if ya ask me,’ the post master mused.

‘Sadly, we do not have a choice.’

‘Well, no worries lads, the next motel is not that far, even if ya wait for the rain to stop, you shouldda make it before nightfall!’

‘We thought to camp by the Fallgrove and continue from there,’ Ignis admitted. Wiz reared back.

‘If that ain’t the dumbest idea I heard this week, Imma eat my hat! Wait here for a sec, boys,’ he said and vanished into the outpost.

‘What’s gotten’ into him?’ Gladio asked, chewing on his sandwich. Ignis just shrugged, then sipped the smoothie. Vilest idea he had in a while. He pushed the glass in Gladio’s direction.

‘Now see here lads!’ Wiz was back and he slapped a map on their table. Ignis had to snatch his plate up, almost knocking Noctis in the head. He peered at the map and noted that it was more detailed and likely, more up-to-date than the one they had. Then Wiz continued.

‘This is where we are, right up here. You see that red dot in the Fallgrove? Now that’s some nasty business right there, called the Costlemark Tower. It’s an ancient something or other, but I tell ya, those ruins ain’t right. Even the hunters try not to camp there, unless it’s necessary. You don’t see daemons much around these parts, but down there, after dark… ya don’t wanna be there, believe me. Especially not with them babies.’

‘So, which way should we go then?’ Gladio piped in.

‘Well, now, this here is the rest stop at Longwythe; there is a diner and a motel, so y’all should be set for the night. But if you are so stubborn and wanna go spendin’ the night in a tent, ‘round here should be a fine camping spot,’ he produced a pen from one of his pockets and put a circle on the map. ‘If I were you, I would cut through the hills here and then follow this road. There are some wild animals loitering about, but they are mostly the vegetarian kind. Chocobos can outrun most of them, so no worries, lads! Here, take this with ya!’ Wiz quickly folded the map back together and pressed it into Ignis’ hand.

‘We very much appreciate your help,’ Ignis thanked him.

The rest of the morning was spent with buying some of the more useful goods sold by the shop and Gladio taking pictures with his compact camera. Selfies with Prompto, selfies with Prompto and the baby chocobos huddled together, a selfie with Ignis and Noctis, which Ignis hoped would get magically deleted. But he bought some ingredients, they had a brand new map and managed to avoid some danger as well, thanks to Wiz, so all in all, Ignis declared the first part of their journey to Galdin a success.

 

‘This is a disaster!’ Ignis cried as soon as Gladio got back to the camping grounds, hands full with bags and a large bottle of water.

Turns out they got pretty lucky. He chatted up a patrolling hunter and apparently all travellers are encouraged to take refuge at havens, if they don’t have anywhere else to spend the night; so being the only ones camping here tonight was really fortunate.

‘What’s a disaster?’ Gladio looked Ignis over; jacket rumpled, Noctis strapped to his back, Prompto sniffling in his arms.

‘Everything! Prompto absolutely refuses to drink his formula at this temperature, I forgot to bring a pot and I only have two bottles! Two, Gladiolus! This all is highly unhygienic! I was neither prepared for camping nor for two babies!’ Ignis was ranting himself into a frenzy.

‘Hey, slow down, would ya? I don’t understand half of what you are saying, Ignis!’ Gladio stepped up to him. ‘One thing at a time, OK?’

Ignis looked like a fish out of water. Gladio guessed not being able to fix things was not how the adviser operated.

‘I guess you are a bit out of your element.’ Gladio smiled at him and the honesty of that one small gesture made Ignis draw a deep breath. ‘But hey, you teach me baby stuff, I sort us out when we are out in the wilderness! Teamwork, right?’

Gladio took out the small pot that he haggled from the one merchant stationed at the outpost. It fit inside his jacket pocket.

‘How…’ Ignis wondered.

‘Alright, so, truth be told, I just wanted to ask you to cook us something again…’ Gladio sheepishly admitted. ‘But I didn’t really know what ingredients to buy, so I guess now you can be as hygienic as you want; boil the bottles or whatever is that you wanna do…’

Ignis exchanged Prompto for the pot and filled it with water. There was nothing to use as a hearth so he kneeled dejectedly by the fire, waiting for the water to warm up.

‘Hey, little guy! What’s with that face? Ignis is making your dinner already, don’t be like that!’ Gladio cooed, lifting Prompto, then settling him in his arms and swinging him left to right in the hopes of catching his attention.

‘What is in the bags then?’ Ignis enquired, catching Gladio unaware.

‘He? Ah, only the best thing in the world! Look!’ he fished a plastic cup out of the bag and held it high. ’Cup noodles!’ Gladio beamed. Ignis was not impressed.

‘You seriously believe that cup noodles are the best thing in the world…’

‘The. Best! Fact! I could eat them all day! But, I mean, you are welcome to try and change my mind,’ Gladio goaded. He wouldn’t say no to some homemade ramen. Could Ignis cook that, he wondered?

‘If you want me to cook proper noodles for you, you can just say so,’ Ignis chided, brows drawn together.

‘Yeah, that would be cool,’ Gladio chuckled.

 

The sun slowly sank behind the mountains, painting the far off outpost and barren hillsides with an aubergine hue, while the stars emerged one by one in the slowly black-blue turning sky. The night was quiet, as if every living thing just vanished to some safe nest to sleep, the peace only disturbed by faint voices flitting through the chilling air from the rest area.

And Gladio’s slurping.

Ignis kind of enjoyed this –mostly– quiet, little break they had; day five and the babies were still alive, they had not killed each other with Gladio yet, and apparently this impromptu “holiday” to Galdin was going good as well. The silence they kept going most of the time started to border on awkward on the other hand; filled with an underlying tension of wanting to talk each other, but neither of them knowing where to start.

Ignis never had problems making idle small talk with Council members and other wilting ladies and gents of the court, but this situation called for a more personal touch, then discussing the pros and cons of Accordian politics and the latest budget cuts.

He had trouble connecting to Gladio as he never really had to hold up any kind of relationship with someone his age. Of course, he had the occasional chat with his classmates, back in the day, but those talks felt just as meaningless as listening to Lord Vellum’s opinion about army manoeuvres.

(Lord Vellum was as old as Council Member’s got, remembering only the „good old days” and projecting his outdated ideas on practically any discussion, where he could get a word in edgewise. There was an ongoing debate about when those aforementioned “good old days” could have been, but the general opinion is, that they took place somewhere between the years of 578 and 606. For those who do not own an Eos calendar or are literally out of another universe, the current year is 735.)

He never had the time, or the interest to make lasting friends. But now he was stuck. Maybe for a year, maybe for ten. Maybe they’ll be back in the royal capital in a week’s time; still he was _stuck_ and he could not fathom how living together would be, if their communication was narrowed down to pleasantries. Surely, they must have something in common, Ignis mused, slurping on his own cup of noodles. He really tried to eat it without any mess, but the bloody strands always went flying around right at the last second, like a bunch of deranged tentacles, splattering his glasses and hitting him on the nose. But, they tasted good, at least for something that was coming out of a plastic container and only needed hot water to make.

Continuing with his previous line of though, they had Noctis in common, but the prince was not really such a hot topic, unless Ignis wanted to debate the amount of infant formula Noctis ate on any given day.

They both had been training as Crownsguards, but he was afraid if he started on that theme, something like, “Nice body you got there, work-out much?” would slip out and make Ignis sound extremely creepy. He had eyes and Gladio’s body looked objectively good, sue him.

There was an unfamiliar sound not far off the camp, gurgling wetly and hissing at the same time, and when Ignis looked over, the sight of lurking goblins startled him so badly, that he sloshed the broth over his hands, almost dropping the noodle cup.

‘Are you alright?’ Gladio was there in a flash, wiping the still quite hot liquid off of Ignis’ hand with the bottom of his t-shirt.

‘Your shirt!’ Ignis protested, but Gladio had a good grip on his hands.

 

‘Your hand,’ the Shield scoffed back. ‘What got you so–?’ He looked over where Ignis was staring into the darkness yet again and saw the disgusting creatures hobbling about the hillside. ‘–spooked…’

Ignis seemed perplexed, breathing so shallow that Gladio really had to strain his ears to be sure he was still alive. He looked back to the hills. Alright, so this really was scary. They never encountered daemons inside the Crown City, that’s what the Wall was for (among other things).

Now sitting here out in the open, not really knowing how well these havens actually held in the face of these dark creatures… Ignis had every right to be scared.

To be honest, Gladio wasn’t much better off. Oh, he would fight them if it came down to it, no question about that, but right now with only the campsite’s glowing magic as a barrier between them and the daemons… he wasn’t feeling all that safe. He cleared his throat.

‘Maybe we should–? ‘

‘Yes, certainly!’

In the next moment, the zipper of the tent closed shut after them, leftover noodles laying forgotten on the camp floor.

 

Ignis paid for their snacks, having the uncertain feeling, that they must be overpriced for being only two regular barramundi sandwiches. Serves him right, for buying it in the resort’s buffet, but if the sandwich prices were anything to go by, they could probably get a new home for the price of a dinner at the _Mother of Pearl_.

It was still weird getting used to paying in gil instead of the banknotes of Insomnia; each and every purchase spent with converting one currency into the other, then calculating if the item was indeed worth buying. They might have had a smaller fortune at their disposal, but no money held forever, so Ignis decided to go on about spending it very carefully. The later they needed to get jobs, the better.

And what jobs could they take? They did not have any occupation and the outer regions did not have a need for Crownsguards. Although Ignis had the fleeting thought, that he probably could earn some income by giving lectures; still, he had no idea how these things went out here. In the Crown City, he definitely would have needed a certificate.

He looked up and watched as Gladio held Noctis up to the softly sloshing waves some paces away, apparently chatting to him, Prompto only a lump beside them on a beach chair. Noct seemed to make some weak attempts to put his hands in the sea water, but Gladio always quickly moved him up and away, laughing.

The weather was mild for wintertime, especially compared to the humid coldness of Duscae. He still wouldn’t want to have a swim, for sure, but all in all, spending time here between the palm trees was a welcome change indeed. The sun reflecting off of the white sand almost compelled Ignis to take his jacket off. Almost.

Families on holiday and couples on romantic getaways populated the beach, some enjoying the waves and the little trinkets the sea washed ashore, some revelling in the local delicacies Galdin had to offer. A few lovers sauntered up and down in the sand, fingers linked, looks dreamy. A group of children harassed the local wildlife, poking at unfortunate little crabs whenever the waves receded. Deep down Ignis wished to see how the situation would unfold, would the little critters turn into their more massive relatives, prowling even now on the deserted part of the sea shore.

(Of course, Ignis meant the Stoneshears: the bastard children of crabs and probably your worst nightmare. They are native to Vannath Coast and come with quite a few different subspecies, sparkshears and rubyshears among others. There are subtle differences, which surely keep many a biologist busy, but any beachgoer needs to know only one thing about these beasts: do not approach them! Or if they happen to approach you, run like Ifrit’s hot on your heels.)

Further up he could see a few people fishing. He never really understood that sport.

Looking over where Galdin’s own daemon-proof haven sat between sandy dunes of the beach, Ignis unwillingly gulped, last night still replaying vividly in his mind. He was sure, that given different circumstances and some time to get accustomed, neither Gladio nor he himself would have any qualms about spending the nights outdoors; but with their charges out here with them…

Ignis decided camping was an unnecessary risk right now and as such, unacceptable. He turned towards the parking lot.

 

 

‘Here!’ Gladio heard Ignis, but couldn’t see what he wanted until he straightened up and turned around.

‘Oh, hey! Sandwiches!’ Gladio beamed at him, taking one of the packages, tearing it up and digging right in. He was dead hungry. Ignis held out something else in his palm; it definitely was not a sandwich. ‘Whas’n’dat?’

‘Our key to the caravan,’ Ignis said. ‘I thought–’ he started, but had no guts to admit to wanting to spend the night as safe as possible.

‘Oh, thank Ifrit’s flaming ball sack!’ Gladio rejoiced. ‘I really hoped I could persuade you somehow to get some accommodation for the night.’

‘I–… Really?!’ Ignis couldn’t believe his ears. He even forgot to reprimand the Shield for using gutter language near the babies. No mentions of any ball sacks should be uttered near the boys, in Ignis’ opinion.

‘Yesterday was something, right? I mean, the boys are a handful as it is; I don’t think we need the added stress of potential threat of daemons and the local wildlife.’

Ignis let out a relieved sigh. Thank the gods…

‘An’ I think these stinky-heads need a bath…’

‘Well, perhaps we do as well,’ Ignis chuckled. Gladio sniffed himself, mouth full with another bite of the sandwich yet again.

‘So, what’s the plan? You know where your guy is, or we have to ask around?’

The plan turned out to be Ignis doing some reconnaissance, while Gladio babysat at the caravan. Ignis prayed to all the Astrals above, that no baby-related-disaster would happen until he was away. Don’t get him wrong, Gladio could hold the fort just fine, if the previous days were anything to go on. He proved to be a quick and adept study. Changing nappies? Fine. Preparing the bottles? All right. Burping? Found it still mostly disgusting, going by his facial expressions whenever Noctis managed to splatter formula over him, but, ultimately, it was no problem.

And Ignis did not plan to dally; go to the resort, find his man, make a deal. What could happen in an hour…

 

‘So, do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk past again?’

‘E-excuse me?’ the waitress of the _Mother of Pearl_ asked back politely. She had that typically confused smile, that suggested she heard the man perfectly well, and only hoped that by making the guy repeat what he just said, he would grasp the ridiculousness of it all.

They never did, of course, but hope springs eternal.

So she clutched her tray to her chest as a line of defence, when the guy took a step closer. Objectively speaking, he was kind of good-looking; short, sandy hair, a slender build, boyish face. But there was an aura of smarminess that he probably couldn’t get rid of, even if he wanted to. Maybe it was those shifty grey eyes, or the shady accent he spoke with; maybe the clothes; polo shirt and a cravat was more a sign of trying too hard, then a sign of being hip and fashionable.

‘You new here?’ came another question instead of an answer, accompanied by a bright grin. There was no commercial-like glint on his teeth when the guy smiled, but imagination dictated the waitress’ brain to envision one.

‘I– yes, I just started two days ago…’ she stuttered and looked around the tables nervously, but all the guests seemed to be enjoying their meal. It was surreal. There was always a bored customer, complaining about odd tasting soups or things smelling like gangrene. She was not entirely sure what gangrene smelled like, but she was quite sure nobody in the Mother of Pearl had it…

Now all she could see were families, happily chatting over masterly plated cuisine and hear overjoyed cries of ‘This is the best food I have eaten in my whole life!’.

The Gods still must have been watching over her that day, because the guy in front of her paled, eyes wide as saucers, when somebody spoke up behind him.

‘Is this how you while away your precious freedom, Dino?’ The guy, Dino, gulped and turned around with a fake flourish and a nervous smile.

‘Ignis, my man!’

The waitress had no idea who this “Ignis” was, but despite looking on the young side, his face was somewhere between a lawyer’s (that would emotionlessly prosecute his own mother without as much, as a second thought), and a parent’s, who was really disappointed in you, your actions and your general life choices all at once. The all-dark clothing and spotlessly clean glasses that perched on his nose did not really help her mental image.

‘We need to talk,’ the newcomer said and turned on his heels, expecting Dino to follow him without questions.

The waitress hoped he would. Blood was really hard to clean up.

 

Dino tried to strike up a conversation as he hastened after Ignis, mainly out of nervous habit, but also to have a feel on the situation. How in Shiva’s tits did this guy find him? But Ignis ignored him, telling him off with a ‘this is a private matter, and needs to be discussed as such’. By the time they reached the caravan, Dino was sweating profoundly and no amount of rubbing his hands up and down his pleated trousers helped him get rid of it.

Dino really did not know what was waiting for him behind the flimsy door, but he quickly made a promise to all the Astrals and then some, to change his ways and be a decent citizen if it was not a hit squad. He felt like a rat, caught in a trap, even with Ignis standing before him and nothing standing in his way of making a dash for it… No, that would be a stupid idea, he decided. So he did what he was best at; faked bravery and hoped for the best. Or if “best” was not in the cards, then to successfully weasel his way out this situation.

He was happy to be out of the walls of Insomnia, as weird as it sounded. People usually would have preferred the safe and mostly comfortable lifestyle that came with being a Crown Citizen. Not Dino. Too much happened back in the capital and risking it outside the walls was still preferable to anything that could happen inside them.

Ignis stepped into the caravan, saying a curt ‘I’m back’ to whoever was in there. Dino gulped and followed suit.

As we previously established, he really did not know what to expect when he looked around the small space. What he was _not_ expecting, was two hundred pounds of muscle in the form of a young man, lying half-naked on the bed, (if you could even call the sleeping space in a caravan a bed), two babies sleeping soundly on his chest.

 

Ignis stopped; Dino almost colliding with him.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, sure, they just had a hissy fit. My dad used to calm my sis down like this, thought I would give it a go,’ the man answered setting the babies down and pulling a dark t-shirt over his head. He did not become any less intimidating in Dino’s opinion.

‘Very well,’ Ignis nodded. ‘Let’s get this over with, shall we?’

‘What… is it that you want… exactly, if I mi–might ask?’ Dino stammered. The other guy did not seem to be much older than himself, and he knew for a fact, that Ignis only had a few years on him. But he also knew from experience, that you did not break femurs and shinbones with your age. You broke them with two hundred pounds of muscle.

‘It is a very simple request, Dino,’ Ignis said calmly, righting his glasses. ‘We need papers, not Crown City ones, mind you, and you are going to get them for us.’

‘That’s it? You want some IDs forged?’ Dino’s eyes lit up, and not only because he could feel the threat of imminent bodily harm lift. Illegal work usually meant illegal amounts of money. If this was a Sunday morning cartoon, he would have gil signs in his eyes. ‘For the four of you?’

Ignis nodded. Dino looked them all over, not quite knowing what to do with this weird group.

‘What is this by the way?’ he motioned between Gladio and Ignis. ‘Is this some kinda forbidden love affair? Do you have an “Ystad and Nymphea” situation going on here?

 ‘And where did you get the babies? This is so disturbing on so many levels, pal. What are you even doing in Galdin? I’ve read the papers ya know, about what happened in the Citadel! Shouldn’t you be busy helping the King or something?’

One could almost hear when the proverbial pin finally dropped.

‘Astrals, is that the Prince??’ Dino screeched. Ignis sighed.

‘Yes, and now that you know this piece of information, you can forget it just as promptly,’ Ignis said in a very slow manner, as if talking to a child, while placing himself effectively in Dino’s personal space. ‘Do not forget, you are one phone call away from either the Cygilhan ocean floor or an Insomnian prison cell.’

 

Dino was not sure, if Ignis was bluffing or not, but he was too pretty to die. Or become some rugged street gang leader’s prison-babe.

That other, bodyguard looking guy was now intimidatingly leaning on the wall, arms crossed and looking at him as if watching this whole debacle was the best thing that happened to him all day. It also looked like he would not be shy to strangle Dino, if he did not choose his next words carefully.

‘What information, I have no idea what you talk about,’ he placated, hands held up as if at gunpoint.

‘Good,’ Ignis remarked coldly and stepped back. ‘Now that this is out of the way; papers.’

‘Yes, yes, I can do them for ya, no problems. You know it will cost you though…’

Before Dino could even start listing all the expenses, he was cut off with a curt ‘No’. Not a question, not haggling, just a simple and stern “no”. Ignis stepped closer yet again, apparently not pleased at all with having to repeat his actions.

‘Need I remind you, that you _owe me_ , Dino?’ Ignis hissed. Dino gulped and shook his head.

‘Very well, then! Here is all the information you might need; names, dates, places of birth. I shall see you in two days!’

Dino wanted to protest against the strict deadline, but an envelope was pushed at his chest and the door slammed in his face, leaving him speechless and very much outside the caravan. He slinked away the way he came.

 

‘Oh, Gods…’ Ignis slouched down on the small bench.

‘That was so awesome!’ Gladio blurted out. Ignis startled and not just because of Gladio’s outburst. The open and honest smile on the Shield’s face made warmth spread around Ignis’ chest. Nobody told him before that he was “awesome”. Not with an expression like that. Gladio looked as if he was proud.

‘I seriously thought he was gonna piss himself in the end.’

‘Come now, I was not that intimidating.’

‘Whatever you say, _Boss_ ,’ Gladio grinned. ‘Coffee?’

‘Yes, please,’ Ignis sighed and watched Gladio leave to get some from the buffet.

He felt like he deserved it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it! See you next Wednesday!
> 
> P.S.: come say hi on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) if you wish!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dino is incompetent, Noctis has marvellous timing and children's books are very weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hello! This week's chapter is a bit on a shorter side, still, I hope you will enjoy it! I think it's a nice, mellow interlude; the boys needed a bit of a time-out, before they have to dive back into the hectic life of the young parents, that they are now...  
> And as usual, your comments and kudos give me life, so thank you very much! (I shall reply to all of them, but life got a bit out of hand atm, but I will get back to them as soon as possible!)  
> And of course, a hearty thank you to my beta, amiyade!
> 
> Onto the chapter, have fun!

Ignis was certain, that if they had to stay in Galdin for long, he would develop a tick in his left eye for sure. Not because of the resort, or the company, but mainly because entrusting a task this important to Dino proved to be a mistake. And the day started out so lovely, too…

All right, that was a bit of a farfetched statement. Ignis did not have much sleep last night. He was slowly getting used to waking up at stupid intervals to care for the boys. He never really had that much time to sleep back in the capital to begin with, but that little time at least meant consecutive hours.

Last night was the worst they had yet. There were only consecutive hours of _crying_ ; Prompto not really happy with, well, something. Ignis tried to feed him, checked his nappies multiple times and spent the remainder of the time until morning trying to soothe the baby with snuggling and talking.

Gladio, not really used to missing out on a good night’s sleep, got up after the first twenty minutes of wailing. He muttered something along the lines of:

‘Do you need some help?’, although Ignis had trouble distinguishing the words through Prompto’s howling and Gladio’s sleepy muttering. He took Gladio up on the offer, handing him the baby and going on about preparing two fresh bottles of formula. He had an inkling that Noctis won’t stay asleep much longer.

Gladio heroically did not go back to bed for a while; he tried to entertain Ignis with barely understandable, sleepy sounds, he gave Noctis his bottle when the prince woke up, burped him on autopilot when he finished and then fell promptly asleep with the baby beside him.

Ignis couldn’t even be mad at him. Gladio was obviously trying really hard, and that was in earnest all Ignis could ask for. They were both doing their best. And luckily, they seemed to make a pretty good team so far. Who would have thought…

Prompto cried himself to sleep in the early morning hours, so Ignis could finally set him down between himself and Gladio and catch some sleep. Not before putting “buying a cot” to the forefront of his mental shopping list. Whenever they slept in the same bed, he was afraid, that come morning, the only thing he would find would be the remains of the boys, flat as a crêpe. If that ever came to pass, he would have to ask Gladio to assist him in committing suicide.

But thankfully, Ignis slept lightly and Gladio had a magical sixth sense. He never ever even stirred in his sleep when the babies were there. On the other hand, when he went to bed knowing that Ignis was there to act as a buffer, he transformed into a cuddle-hungry monster and Ignis usually woke with at least an arm around his body. Or a leg. Or both.

It wasn’t a problem for Ignis as such, to be fair. Now that their world was turned upside down and shaken up like a cheap snow globe, those small moments of human contact really meant all that more. Ignis never really was a touchy-feely individual and his upbringing was a bit less on the emotional side, but he definitely was not an unfeeling machine. So he won’t be the one stopping Gladio in his nightly activities.

 

They had a lovely breakfast in front of the caravan; some pastries, apparently going by the name of “Galdin Puffs”, and coffee. They also had some time to take the boys on a walk on the shore while waiting for Dino and the papers. But Dino failed to turn up. He wasn’t there by lunchtime. He wasn’t there, when the sun started to set over at the watery horizon. 

 

Gladio was looking over the resort. Small lights started to come on, the beach getting more quiet as the hotel guests slowly disappeared into the restaurant, giving way to the sound of the Cygilhan ocean waves licking at the sand and palm trees rustling in the breeze. He wished they could live here instead of that misty hellhole of a forest.

He also wished really, really hard, that Ignis would just calm down. They had nowhere to be, not really. Obviously, the house would not repair itself while they were away, but it wouldn’t go anywhere either. The plastic chair creaked, as if cautioning Gladio to not even think about moving too much, lest he wants to find himself in the dirt.

Ignis, occupying another plastic monstrosity, was staring ahead at the ocean, as if it was personally responsible for the delay. Gladio thought he really looked out of place with his dress shirt and pleated trousers, almost vibrating out of his chair with nervous energy, while the night was setting around them in the calmest manner Gladio has ever experienced.

‘You are aware he’s not gonna get here quicker if you worry more?’ Gladio finally asked.

‘Obviously,’ Ignis answered, but kept looking for signs of Dino’s arrival.

‘Come on, when will we have a chance like this again? The little goblins are out like a light, the weather is good, the scenery is so much nicer than wet evergreens; let’s enjoy this! We cannot get back on the road today anyway,’ Gladio pleaded. Ignis stopped with the surveillance, and started eyeing the Shield instead, leaning back in his chair with a sigh.

‘I suppose,’ Ignis trailed off, lifting his glasses to scrub at his tired eyes. ‘I– This is very unusual compared to my typical duties. I’m not used to being idle and now I feel utterly useless,’ he confessed to Gladio’s surprise.

‘You are keeping the prince happy and healthy, I think that’s pretty useful,’ Gladio offered, but Ignis looked at him with scepticism.

‘Hey, this situation would be hard on anybody, but we are doing pretty good so far, right?’ Gladio squeezed Ignis’ hand on the table reassuringly, but did not really move to let go. ‘I know it’s gonna be tough, but we can do this!’

‘Wahey! Would you look at that! Beach, stars, holding hands under the moonlight! I was so spot on with that forbidden romance theme, wasn’t I?’

And the moment, whatever that moment even aspired to be, was ruined by the very obnoxious arrival of one Dino Ghiranze. Ignis’ finger twitched, but Gladio only took his hand away when that git’s gaze was focused on the adviser and not on the table.

‘Dino, you possess observational skills par excellence. Ever thought of getting into investigative journalism?’ Ignis sarcastically asked.

‘Now that’s an idea! Maybe I should, right?’ Dino enthused. Ignis’ left eye ticked.

‘You are late.’

Oh, Ignis switched into his bad-ass self from two days ago, Gladio happily noted.

You wouldn’t think the adviser to be someone you should be afraid of. Gladio knew Ignis went through a Crownsguard training just as intense as he himself. But where Gladio preferred broadswords and shields, Ignis was more on the athletic side, flittering about the training hall with his twin daggers. Nobody would guess that from his bookworm-ish looks however.

And there was no need really, because Ignis was even more formidable an opponent when it came to thinking and using his words, where Gladio would rely on his muscle mass. So Gladio leaned back, arms linked in front of his chest to promote the silent bodyguard-stereotype and watched on. He was really waiting for the second act of this play.

‘Well, yes, the deadline you gave was a bit exacting, but hey, I’m a man of my word!’ And with a face of a man, who had every right to be pleased with himself, he placed the envelope on the table. Ignis took it up without a word, inspecting its contents.

‘And they came out great too! I mean, not even the authorities would be able to tell the difference without running it through the system! Not that anybody has the time or resources out here to do anything the like,’ Dino boasted.

‘Marvellous,’ Ignis said in a flat tone. ‘Except these are wrong.’

Gladio and Dino said ‘What?’ in unison.

Ignis emerged from the cheap garden chair, as if he was getting up from Regis’ throne itself.

‘You had one job, Dino. How hard is it to copy four names?’

‘Well, I mean, there might have– I might have made a few mistakes, you know, you didn’t give me too much time– ‘

Gladio tuned out Dino’s weak whining as the guy tried to justify himself to Ignis and took the envelope. The family name he chose for himself –courtesy of a favourite character by Henruit – was now neatly printed on Prompto’s card. Prompto Argentum. Had a nice ring to it actually, Gladio mused. He checked his own ID.

Wow. Ignis was very lenient with his choice of words. “Wrong” was not even starting to describe the situation. He almost got used to the idea of having a fake name, well a certain fake name, but his new ID has thrown him in so many ways, he was afraid to even think about it. He definitely will be using his first name whenever possible, because introducing himself as Gladio Scientia with his partner-in-crime standing beside him would raise a whole lot of awkward questions.

He would gladly trade with Noctis. Solanum did not sound half bad. Ignis raising his voice made him look back up.

‘– I wouldn’t count on it.’

‘Alright, alright! No need for all this talk; I’ll make it up to you I swear! Here!’ Dino held out a slightly crumpled hand-written card. ‘Whatever, whenever, just call me, OK?’

Ignis took the card and pocketed it, keeping his eyes on Dino all the way. There was a brief halt before Ignis continued, and Gladio knew it for the dramatic pause that it was.

‘Count on it.’

‘Yeah, well, okay then, I’ll just– I’ll go. See you around… gentlemen!’ Dino nervously said his goodbyes and went back the way he came. Ignis, electing to ignore the garden chair he occupied before, started pacing in front of the caravan. Gladio let him work off some of the frustration, then lightly took Ignis’ wrist in his hands, mirroring the adviser’s tactic from days ago. Ignis stopped, slowly extracting his hand from Gladio’s slack hold.

‘I’m so sorry Gladiolus,’ he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘This… was not how I planned it…’

‘Wha–? Why are _you_ sorry? If anybody, that prick should be sorry.’

‘Thinking that Dino could solve our problem properly, was a dire miscalculation on my part.’

‘The boys won’t care about their names, and I do not either. It’s not for ever, right?’ Gladio smiled encouragingly. All right, he did care about it, but… in the grand scheme of things, it really did not matter, now did it? Gladio was sure, that in a few days’ time, he would not even remember to worry about it.

‘Thank you…’

Gladio was stumped not only by the gratitude, but Ignis’ defeated tone.

‘What for…?’ he asked, standing up to be eye to eye with the adviser. Well, mostly.

‘I– I guess for being nice to me? We are not friends and I may come off as strict and– and no fun, yet you still behave in a supporting manner…’

‘Well, yeah! I’m a nice guy like that, no need to get confused about it.’

‘Now you ruined it,’ Ignis deadpanned. ‘I’m going to the buffet. Be a dear and keep an eye on the boys?’

He hurried away so abruptly, Gladio barely had the time to shout after him to bring some food. Dinner couldn’t come soon enough.

Barely a day passed back at their Malacchi home, when Ignis came up with a whole list of things they needed to buy, now that they were free to travel. He quickly assessed their belongings and all yet missing items got scribbled down in Ignis’ notebook. They popped into the Minimart at the nearest Coernix Station. Ignis did not have high hopes for the supplies stacked there, but better safe than sorry. Naturally, he was right, so after a brief stop and on the advice of the shopkeeper, they went on to Lestallum.

Ignis would have preferred to buy the bare necessities as close to home as possible, but the situation outside the Wall was not as benevolent as everyday life in Insomnia. No shop on every corner keeping open at all times, no specialty stores, the usual comforts of the Crown City not available. It was exhausting to say the least.

The temperature was slowly rising as they neared their destination. Lestallum was the largest town in the outer regions; its houses and wealth both built upon the largest meteor shard in all of Lucis, harnessing its power and enticing people from all around. Ignis perused the store-lined high-street as they rode their chocobos through the town. The shops of Lestallum still did not have anything on the Crown City, yet, Ignis felt like they arrived in the heavens.

Definitely because of the array of establishments and street vendors. Certainly not because Gladio elected to run around in a single vest ever since they left the chocobos by the outlook. No; Ignis always prided himself in the professional way he conducted all his affairs. The Shield might be a sight to behold, but Ignis won’t ruin this mission by making an uncalled for pass at his partner. So he concentrated on crossing every item off their list instead.

 

The sun set and the shops slowly closed their doors for the day, while the markets and streets started to overflow with people and the many bars and pubs awaited their patrons with a wide selection of drinks from the region. Gladio, instead of frequenting one of said establishment, stood in a bookshop right before closing time. He inspected the back of a book, then the cover, then the back again. He sighed. He would rather be sitting outside with a bottle of Jetty’s, as ice-cold as Shiva’s tits.

‘Hm. “The Ugly Moogle”. Who writes this shit?’

Ignis shushed him with a fervour. Yeah, all right, maybe he should mind his language in the middle of the children’s book section. “Section” was a very generous word for two wobbly shelves. And not like there would be any children anywhere near the dingy little bookshop this late, but one can never know. Or maybe he was shushing because of the babies strapped to them… Oh.

‘Sorry!’ Gladio said sheepishly. ‘But seriously, have you seen these books?’

‘Well, some of them certainly are…’

‘S-H-I-T?’

‘…interesting!’ Ignis stressed.  ‘Which one, do you presume, would be more educational: “The Karlabos’ holiday” or “Goldie-hair and the three Mushussu”?’

‘They could only be better than “The Cockatrice’s diamond half-farthing”. What the hell is a farthing?’ Gladio put the book desolately back on the shelf.

‘Language, Gladiolus!’ Ignis took out another two books, still hoping to find something that just might be good. ‘And a farthing, for your information, is a historical currency, no longer in use. Although they were not made of diamonds and I’m quite certain no cockatrice ever had one.’

‘Well, maybe if the cockatrice killed a wealthy traveller…?’ Gladio mused, leaning back on the shelves, which started to give way instantly. Standing! Standing perfectly upright was just fine, Gladio decided.

‘You are so morbid at times. It’s amusing,’ Ignis murmured while examining another two books. At this rate they will be out of options in mere minutes. ‘“The Sleeping Princess”? That would be in poor taste… “The Children’s Fairy Tales by the Siblings Grimbus”? What is this nonsense?’

‘Okay, don’t tell me your parents never read you any Grimbus tales…?’ Gladio joked.

‘They probably would have, have I but spent my childhood with them. As it were, I did not.’

‘I’m…’ Gladio chocked on the words. He absolutely had no idea; not about Ignis’ background nor what he should say in a situation like this. They really, really needed to get to know each other better… ‘Ignis, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…’

‘Quite all right, Gladio. As fate would have it, it seems I can now share my first read of these tales with the boys and make a whole new experience of it. Now, let us pay for this and get some well-earned rest.’ Ignis’ tone sent the clear message of this topic being dropped. Gladio sighed.

‘Right behind you,’ he said, but stopped a second later, his gaze longingly stuck on a shelf.

 

Ignis turned around and pursed his lips, assessing the other man staring unerringly at some books.

‘Would you… like one as well?’ he wagered. Gladio jolted, smiling at Ignis in a bashful way.

He saw Gladio spend his downtime in the company of books since their little adventure began, but he wasn’t really sure if it was caused by lack of any other form of entertainment, or if the Shield really enjoyed reading. If so, what kind of books were his favourites? There seemed to be so much he did not know about his companion.

And that was just unacceptable.

 

‘No, it’s fine! I know we don’t really have the budget for these kind of things…’

‘Come now, buying another book won’t break us financially, and we do need some form of… recreation.’ Ignis stepped up to the shelves. ‘Did you have a particular book in mind or…’

‘Come on, it’s really–’ Gladio laid a gentle hand on the adviser’s shoulder, trying to steer him away.

‘Gladio?’ Too late. ‘These are romance novels…’

‘Well, some,’ Gladio answered awkwardly. ‘I’m more interested in the historical novels… with a bit of love thrown in… you know, like the “Romance of the Two Empires”?’

 

Gladio waited for the inevitable belittling comments, but Ignis behaved as if Gladio reading cheesy books sometimes was absolutely acceptable information. (Because for Ignis, it was.)

‘I’ve never had the pleasure, no,’ Ignis admitted and hauled Gladio closer to the shelf. ‘Then choose one that peeks your interest. Maybe something from an author you like?’

Gladio scanned the spines of the books, humming to himself. He packed one or two books when they left the Crown City, but he couldn’t really bring his whole collection with himself. It never really registered in his brain that this may be for… well, forever. It felt like going on a trip, or when you move house and some weird, little part of your brain still waits for you to go back to the old one, even after weeks.

‘Hah!’ Gladio barked and finally grabbed a book. ’It’s one by my favourite writers!’

‘I must say,’ Ignis peeked at the title, ‘I really have to educate myself in these matters. My knowledge is truly lacking in books this genre.’

‘Probably not your style, Ignis, don’t worry about it.’

‘True, but you like it, and it is a reliable way to get to know you a bit better.’ Ignis smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t make you read the “Journal of Economic Studies of Insomnia”.’

And with that joke, Ignis turned on his heels and strolled off in the direction of the cash desk. Gladio was left there between the dusty shelves and his heart going a mile a minute again. In Gladio’s opinion, it really shouldn’t. Just because the usually oh-so-serious adviser cracked a joke and smiled at him… That smile! Oh, Gods…

A very loud and very wet sound broke his train of thought.

‘Oh, GODS!’ The smell reached Gladio’s nostrils; nostrils he wished he didn’t have at that moment.

‘Way to go, Princess, way to go…’

And so, mood ruined, feelings forgotten and a stinky baby strapped to his chest, he traipsed after Ignis.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. The small table at the end of the settee seemed unreachable. Regis shuffled over from his crumpled position and grabbed the receiver before the call disconnected. The movement felt heavy. He was so tired, even existing hurt.

‘’es?’ he muttered, his voice coming out all wrong after hours of silence.

‘Reggie?’

The jumble of “why now”, “how dare you call me”, “I missed you”, “you should have been here”, “is everything all right” all left Regis’ lips in the form of a gasp.

‘Not much of a conversation starter, _your Majesty_ …’

‘Cid?’

‘Long time no hear, Reggie!’

Seven years, Regis thought; exhaustion rendering him static. Cid broke the heavy pause.

‘Look, I– I read the papers. An’ I know we ain’t parted ways on the friendliest of terms back then… but– Reggie, you’ll always be a friend to me so I–‘

‘I’m sorry…’ Regis interjected. ‘For everything…’

‘Yeah… me too, ol’ pal.’

The conversation drowned into a bout of nervous throat clearing and unfinished sentences, before spiralling back into life; the stories of the years they missed out on pouring back and forth through the phone line.

 

‘He did WHAT now? Who let that chocobo turd drive the Regalia? What is he; twelve?’

‘More like twenty-four,’ Regis laughed. He felt lighter. ‘I wasn’t really paying attention to what Cor was doing, to be fair. I just wanted to be at the hospital with Aulea as soon as possible.’

Well, they almost did end up at the hospital, just not for the right reasons. It was a miracle they got out of the totalled Regalia with the few scrapes they did.

‘I hope ya found somebody capable of putting the old girl back in shape…’ The “or else” hung jokingly in the air. Regis’ silence was very informative.

‘Shiva’s icy rack, Reggie! Send someone down with the girl and a bag of gils when ya find the time, and Imma sort ya out in a blink! I need a fancy side-project anyways, that grandkid o’ mine can’t get enough of the cars rolling through the garage.

‘Would you believe it, that little monkey is constantly rummaging around where she shouldn’t!’

‘Must be a hereditary thing…’ Regis observed off-handed. Cid snorted.

‘Hey, so–’ Cid hesitated for a second, then remembered tiptoeing around wasn’t his style. ‘Is the little brat safe?’

Regis sagged back onto the sofa. Cid waited for the answer in silence.

‘I dearly hope so…’

  

The future king of Lucis was as safe as humanely possible, strapped to his Shield’s chest in a baby harness. Ignis on the other hand was in peril. He fought a losing battle with the local hotel’s receptionist who lacked either the necessary knowledge about babies, or necessary brain cells. Probably the latter, Gladio thought as he watched Ignis explain the situation. Again.

Gladio wondered how long, till they got a murdered clerk on their hand, when a small brunette bounced out of the staff room.

‘Good evening and welcome to the Leville! Can I be of assistance?’ she asked gleaming at them from behind the counter. Thank the Gods, the braindead receptionist slinked off.

‘I sincerely hope so. We misplaced our travel cot, you see, and were hoping that your lovely establishment mayhap had accommodations suitable to our situation,’ Ignis sighed defeated, motioning to the Shield.

Gladio, deeming the battle to be over, stepped up beside Ignis. The concierge –according to the small plate on her blouse- looked at the babies with a manic glint in her eyes. Not only proved she to be a bubbly individual, but also the babbling kind as well.

‘Aww, look at these cuties! Aren’t you just the sweetest little sugar-puffs!’ she simpered.

Gladio and Ignis exchanged a look. _Sugar-puffs_?

‘Astrals, you are so sweet I could die! And where are your mommies?’ the girl continued, still chattering at the babies.

‘We are the mommies,’ Ignis blurted. Then realised what he just said and hid his blushing cheeks behind a cough and righting his glasses. Gladio leaned on the counter, smiling charmingly.

‘He means there are no “mommies”. It’s just the four of us.’

‘Right! Very good–!’ the concierge squealed and leafed through the hotel’s book with hurried fingers and rosy cheeks. ‘I can set you up in room No. 106, if you could sign here please!’ She placed a form and a key on the countertop. Ignis signed the paper, eyeing the blushing girl with suspicion.

‘Marvellous!’ she giggled. ‘Feel free to go on up ahead to your room; I’ll be along shortly with the baby bed!’

‘Much appreciated!’ Ignis answered, grabbing his bag from the floor.

‘No worries, anything for a cute couple like you!’ And with that, the concierge skipped back the way she came.

Gladio laughed all the way up the stairs.

 

Clarus could hear the muffled sounds of bare feet trotting on the carpet upstairs. A second later Iris’ was standing on the stairs, obviously half asleep, hair sticking in every which direction.

‘Dad…?’ she slowly shuffled down the steps, wobbling sleepily towards her father. ‘You should be sleeping…’

Clarus only looked at her daughter, eyebrows raised.

‘…okay, I get it…’ Iris mumbled, absentmindedly rubbing her eyes. ‘I tried. But I woke up and now I’m not sleepy anymore...’

‘Want to watch something with me?’ Clarus asked and patted the sofa. Iris plopped down and snuggled up to his father. ‘Not that there’s too much on at this time of night…’

Iris took the remote and flipped through the channels, stopping at some random re-run of a documentary.

‘I miss him, Dad…’

‘I know, Iris… me too’

‘But you are doing something, right? I don’t have to wait sixteen years to see him again… right?’

‘We are doing everything we can…’ Clarus did not want to say that “everything” at this point was not much. Negotiations with Tenebrae were still under way, although Clarus did not think it would get them closer to a solution. Long-standing connection between the Lucis Caelums and the Nox Fleurets aside, sound reasoning would dictate Queen Sylva to refuse their appeal. Tenebrae was in an unfavourable situation anyway, this close to their oppressors – no use enraging Niflheim by spying on the empire on the behest of Lucis.

‘I knew you would…’ Iris mumbled sleepily. Clarus could feel her smile through the cotton of his Crownsguard t-shirt, as she huddled closer. He blindly felt out for the old blanket that always cluttered the Amicitia sofa and clumsily laid it over his daughter.

Clarus sat there, hugging the sleeping form of Iris and staring at nothing. He could feel his eyelids get heavier by the moment. He knew he should get up, bring Iris to her bed and lie down himself, because let’s be honest, sleeping sitting at this age just asked for trouble and back pains… But this was the first time he felt at ease in days. And back pains would be future-Clarus’ problem anyway…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! See you next Wednesday!
> 
> P.S.: come say hi on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) if you wish!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wetlands are rainy, Iris is the craftiest Amicitia and RICE is not food stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life can go and get stuffed, or at least if it plans on behaving in this manner, give me days with more than 24 hours. Maybe less things to do; either would be fine really... ಠ╭╮ಠ  
> Anyway, I'll get back to answering all your lovely comments as soon as I'm able to and huge thanks to everyone who takes the precious time from their day to read/like/comment!  
> And, as always, my heartfelt thanks to my beta, amiyade for correcting my mistakes and keeping me motivated!
> 
> On to the chapter, hope you'll enjoy!

Ignis ran out of cardboard boxes; all contents sorted and binned or salvaged. Now it was only a matter of cleaning and they could set up in the upstairs bedrooms. Not that it would change anything privacy-wise, given that one of the rooms was to be set up as nursery. Gladio insisted they both take the other one, saying fair is fair and nobody should be banned to live on the couch downstairs. It was a nice sentiment, Ignis thought. Nevertheless, he should soon rearrange their budget to factor in the buying of _two_ separate beds. Although he definitely would wait until Gladiolus brought it up; he was right comfortable with their current arrangement…

Something very cold and very wet landed on his skin, startling him out of his thoughts of bed sharing.

‘Just marvellous…’ he said looking up at the leaking ceiling. How did he manage to forget about that? He must be getting tired, he concluded, a panicky feeling clawing its way up his spine. They would need to fix the roof, check the walls, paint everything. And who knows what else there was to do, Ignis only assumed that these steps would solve their upstairs-problems. Then they still did not have anything to put in the boys’ room apart from the travelling cot they finally managed to buy.

The walls seemed to move closer and closer, the cycle of thoughts from their journey to Galdin making a repeat performance.

‘Igni–!’ Gladio barged into the room, saving Ignis yet again from his own brain with amazing timing and a baffling and very loud rumble of his stomach. It might have been the play of the lights, or he indeed just blushed, Ignis wasn’t sure.

‘Sorry! So, all the boxes are stacked in the boiling room…’ Gladio hesitated, before speaking up a bit sheepishly. ‘Would it be alright– Could you maybe… you know, make some lunch? Please?’

Ignis only nodded at him mutely and made his way downstairs without looking back. Would he looked at Gladio, he would have seen the slightly baffled and concerned look the Shield watched him with as Ignis left for the kitchen.

From then on, the day only got worse. Ignis felt as close to breaking as never before. He thought maybe cooking would take his mind off his predicament, but evidently he was wrong. He concentrated very hard on making a proper meal, but shreds of doubt still found him. He nearly burned the food when Gladio came in, arms full with the babies. Ignis did not even register what he was asked of, staring into the pan and noticing the funny smell a bit late. He definitely should not have snapped at Gladiolus, who only told him to “untwist his panties” and left.

Lunch was a silent affair. Gladio tried to strike up conversation a few times despite their previous encounter in the kitchen. Ignis wasn’t really up for it.

Gladio volunteered for washing up, so Ignis took it upon himself to clean up the bedrooms. At least air them out a bit and get rid of some of the dust. Maybe set up some pots and pans where the leaking was the most critical, if he found any spare pots and pans, that is. He knew there was not much point, but he refused to sit idly around until either Noctis or Prompto needed tending to.

So, dusting it was, then.

Ignis couldn’t sleep. He hoped that if he tired himself out during the day he could at least have a few hours of blissful unconsciousness. Yet again, he was wrong and wide awake. He tried to tune into Gladio’s soft snoring on the off chance the rhythmic sound of it might lull him to sleep, but he was helpless against the tide of thoughts he managed to mostly keep at bay until now.

How could he even _think_ he would be qualified to do this? Outstanding academic results aside, he definitely was not prepared for all this. And being _prepared_ was something Ignis prided himself on. The weight of the responsibility of bringing up someone else’s child sat heavily on his chest. (Or maybe that was just the Gladio’s arm.)

So many things could go wrong and Ignis knew, that if something _could_ go wrong, it would. But he mustn’t fail; it would be unacceptable. Thinking of things years along the line was a really bad idea, Ignis chided himself, but his brain was already in overdrive.

What if something befell the prince? Doctors out here were a sparse occurrence to come upon. And baby books aside, they had no idea what they were doing; none of them raised a child before. What if they did something irrevocably wrong? How would he stand before his king then? And speaking of kings, how was he to teach Noctis all he needed later to reign Lucis properly? He himself only finished his studies, but planned on pursuing education – in no way was his current level of knowledge enough to support his prince. Was there a library out here? Where should he get the necessary books? What about kindergarten for the boys? And school? Ignis’ head teemed with unasked for questions.

He had to get up. Get up and do something. Anything. The usually welcome arm around his chest felt like a lead shackle. He _needed_ to get out of here. He just about threw the offending limb off of his person, but Prompto’s sudden whimper ringing through the dead of the night halted him. Gladio did not deserve being treated rudely just because Ignis was agitated. So he breathed deep, carefully peeled himself out of bed and silently thanked Prompto for his perfect timing.

 

‘But daaaaaaaad–!’

‘No, Iris! This topic is not even up for negotiation,’ Clarus answered with a stern look. Iris was so hyped when she bounced into Clarus’ office, she forgot to even sit down. She excitedly asked her father to allow her to take up proper training. All that acrobatic stuff was nice and all, but you could hardly fight with that alone. Now she was still standing at the other side of the huge desk, small hands in fists.

‘It should be!’ Iris whined, stomping her feet for emphasis. Clarus looked at the ceiling, but no divine help arrived.

‘Well it’s not. Not yet anyways; you are only ten. Can I please go back to sorting out these papers?’

‘No!’ Iris did not budge. ‘I wanna train! I promised Gladdy!’

Clarus winced. That was underhanded. Clarus should not be surprised really, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, not in either case of his children. It made him happy that his kids were adroit, he just wished they were a bit less skilled in situations like these. They usually knew which buttons to push.

Iris very aptly noticed the opening her comment made and continued:

‘I won’t do anything dangerous dad, I promise! I just wanna start somewhere…’

He saw through his daughter’s manipulatively applied innocent expression, but Clarus knew when he was beaten.

‘All right, I will ask Monica if she can take some time out of her days aft–‘

‘Yay!’ Clarus found his arms full of one very excited daughter.

‘After! After the winter celebrations,’ he finished.

‘Thank you, dad!’ He got another hug. ‘See you at dinner!’ Iris shouted from the door and vanished just as quickly as she stormed in.

Clarus collapsed on the very papers he wanted to sort out half an hour ago. He couldn’t care at this precise moment though. Lying on his office desk was perfectly fine.

‘Slain by your own daughter… maybe I have chosen the wrong Amicitia as Shield?’

Clarus looked up into the smiling face of his king, now sitting at the other side of the desk.

‘You can have her. I’m going into early retirement.’ Clarus squinted at his liege. ‘How do you know it was Iris?’

‘Oh, she told me! I think she stopped anybody willing to listen on her way out, enthusing about how her noble father allowed her to join the Crownsguard trainings.’

‘Crownsg–! Nobody said anything about Crownsguards!’ Clarus slapped the desk top.

‘Clarus, Clarus, you obviously should have specified it. Underestimating your opponent is really unbecoming,’ Regis joked. ‘Maybe I _do_ need a new Shield…’

‘Sod off…’ Clarus grinned. ‘What was it you wanted, by the way?’

‘Well, there will be a new hotel grand opening tomorrow…’

‘Hotel?’ Clarus frowned. This would be the _fifth_ this year.

‘CAELUM VIA Hotels and Resorts…’ Regis clarified and the Shield’s frown turned into bafflement, his mind unconsciously running through the usual security measures he would need to take.

‘Again? What do we need another hotel for?’

‘The answer to that question eludes me…’

‘So, you need to make an official appearance and need your royal bodyguard to accompany you?’

‘To a degree, but I thought you might would like to bring your daughter along as well. I only need to cut a ribbon and _smile at the cameras_. How about we make good of the free food?’ his smile was small, but so much more alive than the flat and polite version his king reserved for the public eye.

‘Did _you_ , the king of Lucis, seriously invite me out with my daughter and you are not even gonna pay for it…?’ Clarus could feel a smile pull on his own lips.

‘Well, if you must put it that way… yes?’ Regis full out grinned. Clarus laughed.

‘Oh, you are on!’

 

Ignis ladled heap after heap of instant coffee into his mug. He did not sleep one bit in the end and not just because the boys woke up at the weirdest intervals during the night. But he took a few deep breaths in the morning and decided to make at least a proper breakfast. Not only because he literally ran out of things to do. Maybe if he had something nourishing –and caffeine, a lot of caffeine– he could get back into a right mind-set, calm down and stop snapping at innocent housemates. Well, one housemate in particular; he hasn’t snapped at the babies. Yet.

He stared at the pot. A bloody pot of water! He couldn’t believe he was boiling water on the stove in the middle of nowhere so he could drink his coffee… if you could call that tepid mud-water coffee at all.

He prepared everything for making croque madames beforehand, now there was only waiting for Gladio to wake up. Why has that stupid water not boiled already?

Ignis nervously tapped his fingers on the counter, then zoomed in on yesterday’s wash up and went to put everything away. Ignis opened the cupboard. The handle said his goodbyes to the door and stayed in Ignis’ vice grip.

For a second Ignis saw white and he could hear distant ringing in the dead silence. Then he finally lost it.

‘Bloody, bloody–!’ The handle clattered onto the tiles, now broken in half as well, not only off. ‘–shit!’

He took a few steps in one direction, then the other, slid his glasses up on his forehead. Rubbing his face roughly only helped as much, as pacing around the kitchen.

‘Wha’ happened? Are you alrigh’?’ Gladio barged in, half awake.

‘Yes,’ Ignis bit out. Gladio was not really reassured.

‘…what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Ignis…’ Gladio soothed.

Ignis wanted to throttle him.

The water started to boil.

Gladio stepped close, one hand poised to touch.

‘I said, it’s nothing.’

The water bubbled up and over.

‘Ignis, come on, you have been like this for days… you can tell me what’s wrong…’

Bubbling. Gladio. Pacing, Bubbling. Gladio. Pacing.

‘Really now? Do you really want to know?

‘How about for starters, that we are stranded in the middle of nowhere? In a rotting hut no less, with a waning budget and a thousand things to repair! Have you seen the upstairs? The ceiling is _leaking_! How do people even live out here? There are no shops! What if we run out of something? What if one of the boys get sick?! The next doctor is probably in Lestallum!’

Gladio listened patiently.

‘And how should I raise a respectable and knowledgeable king _here_? How could I teach him all the things he’ll need to know? _Alone_?!’

Ignis watched Gladio’s expression turn displeased at that, but he just could not stop.

‘I’m not sure that it is within my capabilities. And books! I could not bloody well bring all my books I’d need and now I won’t be able to buy them! Oh, and! And–! I can’t even have a decent cup of coffee!!’

 

Gladio was speechless. He stood there as if rooted to the kitchen floor.

‘I–’ he started, but there was no follow up. I don’t know what to say to all of this, he thought, but it would not really help their situation. That “alone” comment churned something in Gladio’s gut, but he was willing to ignore it for peace’s sake. Ignis looked really stressed, and although that was no excuse in Gladio’s opinion, this was not a good time to address that too.

‘Look, I know this is not ideal, but you– I’m sure we can get through this one step at a time. You have been doing great so far!’

Gladio meant it, but Ignis obviously did not take it well.

‘Oh, stop coddling me!’ Ignis snapped. Probably the loudest Gladio ever heard Ignis speak.

‘I’m not “coddling” you, I was trying to cheer you up…’

‘Well, thanks a lot…’

Oh, that was it. Gladio _tried_ , but if the adviser wanted to do it this way, Gladio just could not care.

‘You know what? Maybe stop with your bitching and pull your shit together then, “ _alone”_!’ he mocked and left Ignis to stew in his own juice.

 

Gladio spent the morning outside chopping wood. Ignis behaving all jumpy and upset in the last few days was starting to wear on his nerves anyways, but that combined with this latest outburst... Gladio did not have to put up with that. Chop, a log split in two.

Getting agitated was all understandable in their position, but the way the adviser dealt –or in this case, did not deal– with it was just stupid. And Gladio really tried to help him. He did, but this was the last drop. Chop, bits of wood fell to the forest floor.

Yes, this was unusual. Yes, it was not easy. Yes, their duty put a whole lot of pressure on them, but this was what the both of them essentially trained for. This is what they lived for. Their lives belonged to the Crown Prince however old he may be, and damn all the Astrals if Gladio would not do his goddamn duty, diapers or not.

Chop, there went another log. Physical activity did not take his mind off of the matter and did not calm him down one bit; he just got more and more agitated. The next swing of the axe almost split the stump in half. Gladio glared at it as if the piece of lumber was at fault.

He sighed and dejectedly went back inside.

 

Ignis was nowhere to be found when he stopped playing wood cutter for the day. Gladio probably chopped enough to last them at least two winters. The remains of their un-made breakfast was still on the counter, but he had no idea what it should be or how to finish it, so he resorted to a cup noodle. Not the most nourishing lunch, especially not after all that work out, but he couldn’t care less. It was easy to make and it tasted the _best_.

Ignis did not show up by the time he finished his meal. The house was quiet. It was high time he had a brief date with a book on the couch, Gladio decided. The couch, which he was proud of, by the way; cushions aired out, covers washed. Even Ignis seemed satisfied with the results. It looked like proper furniture now, instead of dirty lumps of filling in cotton sacks.

‘Ignis?’

Silence. Well, he thought, let him stew a bit. This way he could fully concentrate on his reading in peace. That was a rare and treasured occurrence. So Gladio made himself comfortable and opened his book.

 

Sweet, warm sand under his sole, the tell-tale sound of the sea, the sun beaming down… Gladio was immersed in the sight the beach had to offer. He breathed in the salty sea-air, letting it fill up his lungs. He felt so free. He could stand at the shore and look at the water rippling for hours.

Some seagulls landed not very far from him on a railing; making weird, whimpering baby noises.

Baby noises?

Gladio groaned and opened his eyes to a dull ceiling instead of the blazingly blue skies. Stupid dream! It’s been days and days since they left Galdin. If only they could have stayed for just a few days more… He sighed and rolled off the sofa, stretching his cramped limbs.

He looked around, but the adviser was still absent. Must be sulking upstairs, he concluded. Not many places Ignis could have gone. Maybe out for a walk, but in this weather? Chopping wood in the humid cold was all fine; he quickly worked up a sweat, but he would not go gallivanting about in the forest. Even the thought made him shudder.

Crying filled the living room. Oh, right. Babies, Gladio reminded himself and went over to check on them.

‘Ignis?’ he called out but only silence answered. A diaper change later, there was still no sign of the other man. Gladio called again. There was thumping coming from the roof.

‘Oh, he didn’t…’ Gladio stormed out of the house.

 

’Are you out of your mind? What are you doing up there?!’

‘Fixing the roof obviously,’ Ignis shouted back down from the rooftop.

‘Are you shitting me,’ Gladio grumbled to himself, before raising his voice again. ‘Do you even know what you are doing?’ Ignis stopped and looked down at him.

‘Well, not as such... but this is only a temporary fix, how hard can it be...?’

Gladio just about had it. He got it that Ignis was upset with their situation, but that still should not make the oh-so-logical adviser do things like puttering about on wet tiles. This had to end now.

‘Scientia, get off the roof this instant, before I go up there myself!’

‘Don’t talk to me like that, I’m not a child! And I am perfectly fi–!‘

It was not perfectly fine. It was not fine at all. Ignis slipped and time seemed to stop. Gladio felt like he was wading through treacle as he tried to reach him.

He really wanted to ask the adviser in his arms if he was all right, but instead shouted:

‘You stupid idiot, what the shit is wrong with you?’ Ignis just looked at him uncomprehendingly, face turning stormy. Gladio continued before the adviser could get out a word. ‘You know what? Don’t even answer that.’

Ignis groaned and buckled, as soon as his feet touched the ground. Gladio reflexively went to hoist him up again, but Ignis pushed at him.            

‘I’m fine Gladiolus!’

‘Yeah, sure! That’s why you can’t stand on your own feet?’ Ignis got a bit red in the face; whether that was from embarrassment, anger or pain, Gladio did not know. He steadied Ignis with hands on the man’s shoulders and sighed. ‘Look, can we just– I don’t know, just, let me help you inside and…’

Gladio had no idea what they would do after that, but Ignis either came to his senses, or just took pity on him, because he nodded, muttered a

‘Very well,’ and let Gladio support him as they clumsily hobbled-walked through the door. 

 

‘Sorry, there was no cooling pack in the first-aid kit…’ Gladio said as he gently wrapped Ignis’ swollen ankle into a very wet and very cold towel, shoes and socks long discarded on the wooden floor. Ignis hissed. ‘And we don’t have ice either, so… But you know what, you kinda deserve it, I’m so mad with you right now, I–!’ the rest of the sentence died in a frustrated growl.

‘This is fine Gladiolus, thank you.’

‘Yeah, right. I’m going to get you a doctor,’ Gladio declared, slipping into his jacket.

‘What?! Don’t be ridiculous, I’m sure it’s nothing.’

‘It’s swollen,’ Gladio deadpanned and carefully moved the cot over to the sofa. ‘You keep an eye on the boys and that ankle of yours on that pillow; I’ll be back in an hour.’

‘But–‘

‘No buts,’ Gladio interjected. ‘You get up only if you absolutely _must_ and when this is all sorted out, we gonna have a long chat, yeah? Because this–’ he motioned basically everywhere in a flurry of hand gestures, ‘this has to stop.’

Gladio did not even wait for a reply, he stepped out of the house and blew his whistle. Both chocobos emerged a bit later from the treeline. He patted the birds when they reached him, making happy “kweh” sounds at the petting.

‘All right, come on girl! Let’s find a doctor somewhere.’

 

Raindrops splattered the windowpanes yet again. Ignis watched them dance down the glass, thinking how he probably saw more rain in the last week then in all his years before. The sound was soothing at least. Ignis sighed, looking around for something to occupy himself with, but there was nothing. He slid down the couch even more, head pillowed on the armrest.

He turned towards the cot where Noctis and Prompto slept soundly. Ignis felt strangely jealous. Just like last night, he wished for unconsciousness where his thoughts could not harass him. The memory of his unreasonable behaviour clawed itself back into the forefront of his mind. Exploding like this? Highly unprofessional and he felt really stupid to boot. He started to enjoy the easy camaraderie and dynamic they were building up unconsciously with Gladiolus, and he just went and ruined it.

Baby-watching proved to be hypnotic, although just as boring as watching the drizzle splatter the windows. But, maybe not all was lost, Ignis thought to himself as he stared unblinking into the cot. He just had to apologise when Gladiolus returned and find a way to prevent this situation from occurring in the future. Easy-peasy!

‘Oh, Gods,’ Ignis deposited his glasses on the ratty crate Gladiolus designated as interim coffee table and buried his face in his hands. This will be anything but easy… He needed a plan.

 

And as he played hypothetical scenario after hypothetical scenario in his mind, he slowly fell asleep.

 

‘I’m really sorry–’ Gladio quickly bent down to pick random clutter on his way in from the front door, ‘–about the mess, Mr. Forlane!’ He darted into the kitchen and deposited everything on the table. ‘We are still moving in and I left in a rush so–’ Gladio dashed back to the living room and slid the cot away from the couch. Noctis and Prompto seemed to be awake.

‘Stop with the Mr. Forlane please, Wiz is fine!’ the chocobo post master said, standing in the middle of the living room without a care. ‘And no worries son, I’ve been through this m’self. Moving house is tricky business!’

Gladio smiled back sheepishly. Ignis must have been dead tired, if he still did not wake up to all this talk and noise, he thought to himself. Gladio gently shook him by the shoulder.

‘Ignis, hey! I’ve brought help!’

‘Wha–?’ Ignis came to himself and moved to get up so suddenly, Gladio almost jumped up from his crouch.

‘Well, I’m only a vet, but I might just be enough for a sprained ankle. Well, as long as it _is_ a sprained ankle.’ He sat his huge leather bag down near the sofa and motioned to Ignis’ foot. ‘Do ya mind?’

Ignis, only just awoken, needed a bit of a reaction time before nodding and muttering:

‘Thank you…’

‘Ain’t no worries lads, let’s see what we’ve got here! Ya know, ya learn a thing or two with all those clumsy townsfolk achin’ to ride the chocobos and every second one of them falling off the poor birds…’ Wiz carefully peeled the now dry tea towel off of Ignis’ still swollen ankle. After some humming and prodding and moving about Wiz straightened up. ‘It’s just a mild sprain, my boy. You’ll be up and running in no time!’

He took an instant cold pack from his bag and applied it carefully.

‘You just follow the RICE protocol and you should be fine as rain in a few days!’

‘The what now?’ Gladio piped in before Ignis could even think about asking anything.

‘RICE! Rest, ice, compression, elevate; pretty easy.’

‘Oh! We still don’t have ice… I’m just– going to make some. Somehow,’ Gladio mumbled uncertainly. Wiz just shook his head, like a disapproving grandmother (not like Gladio ever had one, but this is what he imagined them to be like).

‘Boys, boys, ya really should upgrade that first aid kit of yours. I don’t know where y’all are from, but not every settlement has doctors out here. Here, have this! Put it in the freezer!’ He handed a small blobby something to Gladio, which –after a closer look– turned out to be a reusable hot and cold pack.

‘We are truly in your debt, Wiz,’ Ignis politely interjected from the sofa while Gladio went to the freezer. ‘How might we repay you?’

‘Come now, this ain’t nothing between neighbours, right? Now, ice it about three times a day until that swelling is down, keep it elevated as much as possible an’ don’t go running about if you don’t have to. That man of yours can keep up with the babies for a few days,’ Wiz enthused good-naturedly, patting Ignis on the shoulder.

Gladio just stood there under the archway and prayed to all six Astrals that he was not blushing… too badly. Why did everybody and their mother think that they were together…? Must be the babies, Gladio concluded. Ignis only coughed, before answering politely. He did not even try to correct the man.

‘Will do. Thank you for your help!’

‘Ya welcome, boys! I’ll leave you to rest; if anything comes up, pop down to the post!’

 

Gladio went to see him off, waving after the disappearing postmaster from the porch. Fingers hovering over the door handle, he stopped. He promised Ignis they would talk about– whatever this situation was. His father always encouraged Iris and him to discuss their problems, either with each other or with Clarus. This was almost the same, right? Except he didn’t know Ignis that well.

All right, Gladio thought, I can do this!

 

But he couldn’t, not really; but that did not mean he did not _have_ to. He briefly checked on Noctis and Prompto, but the boys seemed to be just fine, staring at who knows what, Noctis sometimes letting out one of his mysterious baby-noises. Gladio sighed; he would rather be dealing with nasty nappies than with Ignis.

‘So… hey,’ Gladio started, absentmindedly scratching his neck.

‘Thank you,’ Ignis cleared his throat nervously, ‘…for getting help, even after…ahm…’

‘Your little blow-up?’ Gladio helpfully piped in after it became obvious that Ignis had no idea how to actually continue. Not the phrase Gladio should have used, going by Ignis’ expression. ‘I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like _that,_ you know! I just– okay here is the thing–

‘I’m not really good at this, but dad always says better out, then in– I mean, we have enough on our plates as it is, right? So… do you wanna talk about it?’

Gladio’s careful smile was matched by the minute twitch of Ignis’ lips.

‘Do you perchance require a clipboard for that talk?’ Ignis joked. ‘But you are right, I’m truly sorry for the deplorable way I behaved. I should not have allowed my feelings to get the better of me.’

‘Yeah… Wha–? No! Oh, Gods!’ Gladio took a few aborted steps, muttering, before kneeling by the couch. ‘Ignis, that’s fine! I mean– you know, feelings are fine. I just– I know we are not best buddies yet, but if you wanna, you can talk to me.’

**_Yet_**.

Gladio didn’t know where that one came from. Maybe he got lulled into thinking they were on the right track by their teamwork so far. This was all new, their dynamic may change when they have settled… and who knows if it turns for better or worse?

‘Gladiolus…’ but that was only as far as Ignis got, Gladio’s tired grunt cut short anything he might have wanted to say.

‘Gladio is fine, Ignis. Only my father calls me Gladiolus sometimes, and it never bodes well…’

Which was true enough, it was a clear sign that Clarus was either mad at him or something was about to happen that Gladio would not be happy about _at all_.

‘Ah…’ Ignis made a face that suggested even the concept was a mystery to him. ‘I was not aware. I’ll try to refrain from using it.’

‘Yeah, thanks!’ Gladio grinned and went for one last push; if Ignis did not want to talk, he would leave him be. ‘So…?’

Ignis did not answer, but Gladio could see he was searching for the words that did not want to come, so he waited.

‘I’m not used to… this!’ he helplessly twirled his hands, pointing at everything at the same time. ‘All this sitting idly around…’

‘You almost accidentally killed yourself falling off a roof, because you did not have anything to _do_?!’

‘Don’t twist my words!’ Ignis shot back. ‘I guess the reality of how over-in-our heads we _really_ are just caught up with me, I– I don’t know how you do it.’

‘Do what?’ Gladio frowned at Ignis’ helpless expression.

‘You seem… at ease. Almost comfortable. I know this must be hard on you as well, and yet– you still somehow find the energy to deal with me…’ Ignis trailed off, but kept looking at Gladio with such intensity, the Shield thought for a second his heart is going to burst.

‘Well, you say that…’ Gladio let out a nervous laugh. ‘I guess reality hasn’t caught up with me just yet. But we can do this. Step by step, right?’

‘We certainly have to try our best…’ Ignis finally looked away, his voice laced with defeat. That was not where this discussion should end. So Gladio pushed one final time.

‘Alright, so– first things first: you concentrate on getting well! After that, we find something to keep us occupied.’

‘But there is barely anything to do at the moment…’

‘You are good at planning right? Use your… glorious _couch-holiday_ to think of something, yeah?’

Ignis did not seem entirely happy with that prospect, but Gladio could see the gears already turning in the adviser’s head. They were back on track.

Prompto, as if on cue, started crying.

‘Duty calls…’ Gladio groaned.

‘Gladio!’ He waited for the Shield to turn back around, before continuing. ‘Thank you for catching me…’  Gladio couldn’t help but smile at the quiet honesty and relief in Ignis’ voice.

‘Any time, Ignis. Any time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although it actually happened with my sister back when we were kids, that a visiting vet had to help her when she fell off the balcony (because we lived so far out), please **please** whatever happens, do seek out professional medical help! And yes, my sister is alive and well. (≧∇≦)
> 
> Thank you for reading!! See you next Wednesday!
> 
> P.S.: come say hi on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) if you wish!  
> P.P.S.: tumblr ask/messaging system is even more of a load of bollocks than usual, so don't be shy to hit me up on the chat!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glacian Eve is approaching fast, Gladio starts to get in over his head and Regis ruins his royal raiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No witty author's notes this time children; Germany just lost and now, with all the other poop in my life, I lack the energy to even exist. Look at my spirit animal grieve:  
>   
> Anyway, onto the new chapter!

 

Gladio had to rake his brain really badly to remember how this stupid candle decoration should be done. Back then, when his mom was still alive, they made it together every year. After her passing, it became a job for Jared to get it from the shops. Gladio did not want to do it, his father never had the crack or the time for such things, and Iris was way too small to learn it. Well, until recently, that is.

So Gladio fought valiantly with the composition and colours to make it perfect. This might not be his family and the babies would not care or remember at all, but if it was the last thing he did, they would have a proper Glacian Eve.

He did not even realise it was coming up, until well into December. First all that cleaning and shopping all around the outlands, then Ignis’ accident… All these happenings occupied his every waking thoughts and none was left for such trivial matters as public holidays.

There were no decorated streets and no billboards to remind him that the days dedicated to the ice goddess, Shiva were at their doorstep and he should prepare. No excited bundle of joy by the name of Iris to chatter his ears off about all the things they could do that day. It was only him and Ignis and the silent hills of the Malacchi Woods.

Gladio did not bring it up at all, when he first noticed. He just hoped Ignis would ignore it as well and they would spend it as they would have any other regular day. But then memories came flooding back; of laughter around the table, of all the delicious food their retainer always prepared for the day, of the stupid games they all played together… and he just thought, to hell with it. Why should they _not_ have a decent Glacian Eve? It was true he wouldn’t be spending it with his loved ones, but aforementioned loved ones would probably only roll their eyes at him and describe in detail what a stupid idiot he was being. Especially his mother…

So, he basically attacked Ignis one morning with the news, more or less _demanding_ they have a celebration. Ignis looked a bit baffled at first, but could not fight Gladio’s enthusiasm apparently, as he pretty quickly agreed with the plan. Gladio took it upon himself to decorate for the coming event, and Ignis dutifully promised to make the meals.

And all that left Gladio in this current mess. One of the candles decided that standing in order was not the way to go and keeled over. Gladio groaned.

‘Everything all right?’ Ignis asked sitting down at the table, coffee mug in hand.

‘Yeah, sure, just… it’s been years, I barely remember and these shitty candles don’t wanna stay where I put them…’

‘Gladio, we do not _have_ to celebrate. You can change your mind if you wish so.’

‘No, no! No, we are doing this!’ Gladio affirmed. Then something occurred to him. ‘You… don’t mind, do you? I mean, I practically wrestled you into doing this…’

‘It was a long time ago that I properly celebrated Glacian Eve. This could be… fun,’ Ignis shrugged, then put on that modest smile of his. ‘And it appears to make you happy, when you are not getting an aneurysm from festive decorations, so no. I do not mind.’

Gladio hummed, eyes still trained on the stupid pieces of wax that defied him. Then what Ignis just said registered in his brain.

‘What do you mean “long time ago”?’

‘Ten years… give or take. My uncle made an effort when I was younger, but the both of us got more and more busy as time passed, so… We usually had dinner together that day, though.’

Gladio was speechless. He always thought that aside from preparing to be a Shield, he had a pretty neat childhood. Of course it was mostly studying and training, but he still had his parents –busy parents, but they were there when it mattered–, and he had Iris, he had mates among the Crownsguard recruits. But Ignis? Ignis’ upbringing sounded just sadder and sadder the more Gladio learned about him.

Maybe it only sounded like that because Gladio compared it to his own? Ignis did not really seem upset by it; just sitting there, sipping at his mug… looking at Gladio with eyebrow raised.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, sorry… I just… spaced out.’

Gladio absentmindedly fondled the candles on the table. Ignis silently drank his cup of coffee. The house was quiet, the air outside seemed to shimmer with unfallen drops of rain, pale sunlight filtering through the occasional cracks in the contiguous blanket of clouds. Gentle crackling came from the fireplace. It was a serene morning.

Then Gladio stood up abruptly, almost felling his chair.

‘Ignis could you hold the fort for… an hour or so? Please?’

‘Naturally, but what–’

‘Imma tell you later! Thanks!’

And Gladio was out the door, whistling for his chocobo, Ignis’ faint voice ringing through the flimsy kitchen window:

_‘Bring milk, would you?’_

 

Ignis was perusing the barely stocked shelves at the Mini-Mart when a thought hit him like a horde of stampeding garula. He _should_ buy something for Gladio. Or should he? If yes, then what? Back in Insomnia, he never bothered with gifts. It was only his uncle and him and after a few years the whole notion just lost its appeal.

 

Gighee ham, birdbeast eggs –he checked the list– Leiden pepper, he needed Leiden pepper…

 

Ignis of course was not obligated to buy anything, but for some curious reason he _wanted_ to. There was a dynamic between them, indubitably, but not yet friends. Gladio was not a family member of his, and they barely passed the one-month-mark in this weird arrangement, and yet... Ignis very slowly started to feel comfortable in their situation and it was mostly thanks to Gladio. He would never have thought that a man with such an occasional short temper could be so patient. Some kind of thank-you-gift was in order.

He still had two days until Glacian Eve, that should be enough time to think of something, Ignis assured himself, while a small voice panicked in the far recess of his mind, because it most certainly was not enough time to find anything. Back in Insomnia, maybe… or Lestallum, if he was lucky. Obviously the Capital was out of question, and getting to Lestallum could prove tricky. Somebody should watch the babies, but Gladio has been vanishing for hours a day ever since he had that weird epiphany in the kitchen. Ignis did not know what the Shield was up to. He wouldn’t say he was not at least a bit curious, but Gladio had his right to his private affairs and Ignis was not one to pry.

 

Wild onion, Cleigne wheat, chocobeans… did he bring enough money, he wondered…?

 

What best to give the Shield? Ignis knew he liked books… ’historical, with a bit of romance’ as Gladio himself put it, but which ones specifically? He did not know the Shield’s preferences… what if he bought the wrong book? Assuming he finds any in the vicinity of their home.

He knew that Gladio liked his training, but anything swordfight related would cost a fair bit of money, and thus, was out of the question. Gladio loved his family very much, but Ignis could not bloody well invite the other two Amicitias over to their hideout.

He realised that all-in-all he knew only those three facts about Gladio. Three! And even those were the most basic of basic things: he liked books, he loved his family dearly and he not only was good at fighting, he seemed like he was enjoying honing his skills. All right, four; he obviously was very handsome, even a blind man could see that. Ignis promptly ignored the last thought. Or any thought about rippling muscles and warm smiles in general.

He reached for the chocobeans, but his hand stopped mid-air as he noticed a bottle next to the cans. He checked the price and quickly made some calculations. Should be fine, he decided and finished shopping, thoughts about Gladio’s present shelved away for later.

 

Iris sat awkwardly in the lobby by the Royal Gardens. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still imagine the curling purple-black smoke that filled the enclosed space some weeks ago. So she tried real hard to concentrate on something else. There was not much to look at in the Citadel’s waiting rooms. They had the same sleek and noble style as any other part of the building; all dark marble and metal. Clean. Iris thought it boring, despite all its beauty.

The other thing that bothered her even more than the memories of swirling daemonic fog, was that the king –oh em gee– asked to meet her and she had no idea _why_. So she tried to keep the fidgeting on the plush settee to a minimum and waited.

When the king arrived, he looked… wrung out. Yet, he greeted Iris with a smile.

‘You–your Majesty!’ Iris stammered and curtsied in the cutest way.

‘Iris, come now! How many times must I tell you that Regis is fine. Please…’

‘I can’t call the king “Regis”…’ Iris mumbled, a light blush blossoming on her cheeks. ‘Dad says that’s inappropriate…’

Regis sighed. Inwardly, he snorted. Clarus was one to talk about inappropriate; the worst thing his Shield has called him over the many long years of their friendship was not something for little ears.

‘And how about calling your dad’s best friend Regis?’

‘I dunno…’ came the shy answer.

‘Well, think it over, when you have the free time,’ Regis winked. ‘But let’s cut to the chase then. Iris, I really need your help! Do you have time for some shopping?’

 

Glacian Eve arrived with an insanely festive downpour and drenched the Malacchi hills to the last pine-needle. The rain has been at it since that morning, if not earlier. It was definitely pouring ever since Gladio opened his eyes. Prompto decided half past five in the morning was the perfect time to have breakfast. Ignis must have been up a few times during the night, because his only reaction to the crying was to mumble something in his sleep and slap Gladio a few times. The Shield was glad only his arms were in Ignis’ reach…

The morning consisted of nappies and bottles, as usual. The only positive thing about the weather was that the constant pitter-patter of the raindrops seemed to work as a calming influence on the boys. Putting up the only festive string light they had in this weather was a bitch though. It was nothing special. A regular cord with small bulb lights that Gladio found on one of his escapades, but he was still kind of happy about buying it. He stepped back to admire his handiwork, almost falling off the porch. He deemed it good enough and strode back inside. That much rain and cold wind was enough for one day.

The mouth-watering smell of their dinner in the making attacked Gladio as soon as he entered. All the pain that came with fulfilling the decorating-part of their arrangement will _finally_ be rewarded tonight, if his nose was to believe. He could hear Ignis talk to the boys –or more like at the boys– as he struggled to get rid of his boots.

‘Baaa!’

‘Well, certainly Noctis; I was just thinking of putting a bit more pepper in it.’

‘Bbbbl…’

Gladio looked Ignis over.

‘Did you not bring anything… comfortable?’

‘Sorry?’ Ignis turned around, wiping his hands in his makeshift tea towel apron.

‘I mean, running about in formal trousers all the time… don’t you have jeans or something? Or at least a t-shirt?’             

‘Well, I have brought my training clothes, but those hardly count as appropriate daily wear. Also, I do not see what is wrong with pleated trousers…?’

Gladio’s treacherous mind immediately provided him with reasons why there was nothing wrong with Ignis wearing his stupid trousers. Mental images of the fabric hugging those neat globes perfectly whenever he moved, came unbidden. Gladio coughed.

‘Nothing! Nothing at all,’ he blurted. ‘Was just a question…’

‘Although, I might need some more… durable wear for the spring. I would not want to ruin my wardrobe painting and gardening…’

‘Good thinking, Ignis.’

Spring. That seemed ages away, with the constantly bleak sky and water in some form drizzling down on the forest more often than not. Wetlands this and wetlands that, Gladio really hoped the following seasons would be a bit more benign. Those hopes were not really high…

And speaking of crushed hopes and dreams–!

‘Is the roast done already?’ Gladio asked, peeking into the dark and cold oven.

‘What roast?’ Ignis looked taken aback.

‘The– the traditional, festive Glacian Eve roast? You know, huge blob of meat, delicious gravy, those fluffy, white berries… maybe some Leiden potatoes?’

‘Well, we always had the traditional dumplings– Gladiolus, I’m sorry, I should have asked if–’

 

There goes the roast, flying out the window…

 

‘No! No, dumplings are– they are totally fine!’ Gladio tried for a nonchalant tone. It was anything but.

‘Gladio–’

‘Okay, yes. I would have been happier with the roast, but it’s really fine. It doesn’t matter what we are eating, as long as we are having a nice evening, amirite?’ By the time Gladio rushed out the last word, he felt them be true. Who cared about the stupid roast? New… _family,_ new traditions.

‘I suppose. Still– you have been anticipating this day for quite some time now– I–‘

‘Yes _I_ have, but _we_ are not gonna let the menu ruin our first Glacian Eve together! I want to remember this fondly, more than I want to eat roast. You can make it up to me some other time, if it bothers you that much. So, what are these dumplings?’

Ignis blinked a few times before telling Gladio in detail about the dumplings and the few festive dinners he remembered spending with his uncle. How his guardian always made those evenings free, even though they both had hectic schedules. How his uncle, who barely had time for take-out on any given day, always made the effort to prepare homemade dumplings that one time a year.

‘Ah, look at me chattering away…’ Ignis almost sheepishly finished.

‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘You know, telling me about you a bit. Getting to know each other is– this is good,’ he grinned.

‘Well, then! Do you perchance wish to continue with a story of your own?’ Ignis smirked.

Gladio rubbed his palms together, as if preparing to tell the most amazing story of the millennia.

‘Oh, you gonna love this, so there was this one time, when Iris…’

 

And so the afternoon passed in a blur of shared stories, preparations and dumplings.

‘I could sleep for a week.’

‘Not an option Your Majesty. But your royal duties are finally over, so you can relax. For today at least.’

‘Hmmm...’

‘Very eloquent Regis...’

Cor chuckled in the driver seat at the interaction between his king and the Shield, not taking his eyes off the road as he pulled into the traffic. He wrecked one car already and he wasn’t really keen on totalling another one before the year was out. Not that it really mattered, Cid’s going to kill him anyway. The mechanic always loved the Regalia much more, than any human in their little entourage. All right, so that might have been an exaggeration, he liked his comrades well enough, but the old man always had a soft spot for the royal vehicle. Cor really hoped he would not be the one to bring the Regalia to the car shop. Especially not to Cid’s car shop. He wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He glanced into the rear view mirror. Regis was dosing in his seat and Clarus seemed immersed in the city lights. It reminded him of their trip together through Lucis, although they very evidently were missing two members of their crew now.

They all went on their separate ways after Regis was called back to the Crown City. Not really separate in the case of Clarus and himself, but they all had their duties now. No hours long car rides on the swirling roads of Duscae, no sleeping together in their cramped tent, no bickering between Regis and Cid, no amazing food by Weskham – all distant, bittersweet memories on some far off mental shelf. Sometimes he missed the months they spent together. He was still in awe that he even pulled it off sneaking on that trip. Or getting into the Crownsguard. Or being made bodyguard to the late king.

Certainly not things a thirteen-year-old boy should be doing, but it was water under the bridge now. He was still alive and he was happy with his life. No regrets.

 

‘Where to?’

‘To Clarus’ house.’

‘Amicitia manor, please.’

Clarus and Regis answered in unison, then looked at each other.

‘Did you just invite yourself in for Glacian Eve?’

‘Did you just try to abduct your king?’ Regis got bumped in the shoulder for his troubles. ‘And yes, I did _“just invite myself in”_ for the holidays, but you obviously had no intention to let me off tonight and be sad by myself. Am I perchance correct?’

‘Yes, yes. Stop being smug about it. Cor, you are staying as well.’

‘I really do not want to inconvenience you tonight of all nights–’

‘Well, then you can come in just for a minute and tell Iris yourself why you cannot stay and why she and Jared made all those preparations in vain.’ Clarus smirked.

‘…that was really underhanded, Sir.’

‘Drop it, it’s just us, it’s Glacian Eve, let’s just… act normal, like back in the days. I’m so tired of formalities…’

‘I second that!’ Regis piped up. ‘I just wish to have a nice dinner and prank call Cid.’

Clarus immediately regretted bringing up the good old days. Cor was a teenager back then, impulsive to a fault and Regis was the king of the world’s most stupid practical jokes. Ever since he was crowned the ruler, he toned it down a little.

Well, tragedies darkened his every day since he became king, so no wonder the friend he knew only shone through the devised royal persona very rarely. Still.

‘We are not prank calling anyone! You two will behave like model citizens. Iris does not need any more ideas in her repertoire.’

Cor and Regis only hummed in agreement as the car zoomed through the festively lit streets of Insomnia.

‘Shiva’s tits that was good! I would eat another bowl, if I could,’ Gladio exclaimed, leaning back in his chair with a vehemence that almost toppled him backwards. ‘But I think I would literally die…’

‘Well, I'm glad you enjoyed our dinner even in the absence of your much desired roast,’ Ignis answered, lips curling upward as he deposited the dishes in the sink.

‘Forget the roast, I could eat this like… every day,’ Gladio said, accompanied by a sated sigh.

‘I rather think that would drastically minimize the enjoyment factor, come the next holiday,’ Ignis countered with a smile and put a bottle in front of Gladio. ‘Would you care for drinking some mulled wine with me?’

‘You really thought of everything, didn’t you?’ Gladio grinned, inspecting the label, more out of sheer curiosity, than anything else. He did not know anything about wines, but he was sure Ignis wouldn’t sacrifice all too much from their tight budget for a “luxury” like this. He was also pretty sure, that nothing at the Mini-Mart would be of royal quality. ‘Wow, “Burgundy Behemoth”? Who comes up with these?’

‘Is that a yes?’ Ignis snickered.

‘Yeah, sure. Although, I have no idea how to make that…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Ignis said, pot in hand. Gladio did not know why but it made him let out a hearty laugh.

‘All right then; you do your magic, I’m gonna do the dishes.’

 

Twenty minutes later they found themselves back at the table, steaming mugs of mulled wine warming their hands and the soft sounds of their conversation filling the kitchen. Fireplace still happily crackling away, the babies asleep; it was truly a Glacian Eve miracle and a much appreciated time-off.

Gladio noted how much calmer Ignis looked now. It was a good look on him and not having to worry about when he might snap from stress did not hurt neither. He was smiling a bit more, sometimes even started to talk about himself, or tried to get to know Gladio a bit better. It was all good.

‘Do you miss them?’ came the question, rousing Gladio from his musings.

‘Sorry?’

‘Your family?’ Gladio looked at Ignis in his confusion. ‘Pardon me, you just had this… longing, far-away look on your face, I assumed–‘

All riiight. Apparently Gladio needed to re-evaluate his current standpoint on the adviser, because “longing, far-away looks” should not be the ones appearing on his face while thinking about Ignis. Gladio was not sure, what facial expressions would be appropriate for their kind of relationship, but the previously mentioned ones sounded like the start of a slow descend into madness.

‘Well, yeah. I’ve spent my whole life with Dad and Iris, and you know I love them. Of course I miss them, but I’m sure if I would just mope around and not make the most of my time, I would not hear the end of it. My mom–’ Gladio cleared his throat as his treacherous brain went in that particular direction. ‘My mom was a very… “seize the day” type of a lady, you know. And I think it rubbed off on me a bit.’

Although in that particular moment, Gladio did not really feel like it did. It felt like it hurt. So he quickly downed his wine and refilled his mug. He needed a diversion.

‘And you? Do you miss your uncle?’

Ignis contemplated, sipping at his drink, before answering.

‘There is not much to miss. I have fond memories of him from my childhood, but we were never really close. I’m thankful for all he did for me, but it is not like the relationship between you and your father. We could not really spend all that much time together, considering both our life styles.’

Gladio felt like head-butting the desk; this was even a worse turn of conversation, than talking about his dead mother. His mind started to run through options to get out of this, but thankfully Ignis came to the rescue.

‘But this is not an appropriate topic for this evening, is it? As I heard, this should be a “joyous eve”,’ he smirked, but it was a bit lifeless. Gladio wanted to see him smile.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed and stood up so suddenly, that Ignis jumped in his chair. ‘Sorry, I– okay, stay here, I’ll be back in a sec!’ Gladio said as he vanished from the kitchen. The dull thudding of his footsteps on the stairs echoed through the house.

He came back with a box in his arms; wrapped up in plain brown paper with a lilac bow on top. Ignis looked at him absolutely confused, when Gladio presented him with it.

‘What is this?’

‘A present, obviously,’ Gladio smirked. ‘Come on, open it!’

‘Gladiolus…’ Ignis chided, but said nothing else as he stood up and went to peel the wrapping off the box with a care Gladio never had in himself. The brown paper fell away and revealed a plain cardboard box, adorned with a simple drawing of a coffee machine. The brand name was printed in huge block letters.

Ignis sat down heavily.

Now it was Gladio’s turn to be confused.

‘Is it not good?’

Ignis only sighed, walked over to the cupboards and came back with a box of his own, holding it out for Gladio to take.

‘It is perfect, to be honest, but it makes my gift to you look like an inane joke,’ he finished disheartened. Gladio tore at the box. Ignis bought him a present. Ignis bought _him_ a present!

The box was full of different food stuff. Gladio had zero kitchen knowledge, but only an idiot would not have guessed, what the ingredients were for. He felt like his face was going to split in half as he grinned at Ignis.

‘You remembered! Yes! I can’t wait, when are you gonna make it?’

‘I have nothing planned for tomorrow,’ Ignis answered, not able to help the upward curl of his lips in the face of Gladio’s honest elation.

‘Yes! I’m not gonna eat breakfast so I can eat **all** the home-made ramen you gonna make!’

Ignis looked at him with that motherly disappointment that sometimes found its way on his face when met by decisions not up to his standards.

‘Joking, Ignis! Joking…’ Gladio, in his excitement and who knows what else, went in for a hug and did not let go until the surprised adviser returned it. ‘Thank you! This is the best gift. Ever.’

‘You bought me a coffee machine,’ Ignis murmured into his chest.

‘Well, okay, maybe they are equally good,’ Gladio corrected and with a last squeeze, let go of Ignis.

‘You bought me a bloody _coffee machine_! How are those things equal?’ Ignis bristled.

‘I didn’t buy it so you can feel bad. I wanted—’

Now, thinking about it, he did not know what he wanted. Obviously for Ignis to have something that would –by any luck– make him feel a bit more at home. To have something that could link him to a semblance of normalcy. But it did seem a bit of an overkill, regarding the current state of their relationship. Going through all those hours of helping Wiz out, hunting down a shop that had a model _not_ built 15 years ago…

Gladio repressed the little voice telling him how similar this was to courting someone. This was– He just wanted to do something nice for Ignis. Nothing more.

Or so he kept telling himself.

 

‘I just wanted to make you a bit more comfortable here, Ignis,’ he finished with a lopsided smile.

Ignis seemed to study him for a second, then did the most surprising thing and Gladio found himself on the other end of a warm hug. It did not last as long, as the one the Shield initiated, but was just as nice.

‘And you did, Gladio. Thank you.’ He did look pleased. ‘Come, let’s finish this mulled wine, before it gets cold and I have to put it back on the stove.’

Gladio obliged.

 

The thing about hangovers was, you did not only feel bad physically as a consequence. The throbbing headache, the blurred vision, the occasional nausea and the complete lack of balance was only one half of the deal.

Knowing that you poisoned yourself against your better judgement, despite all the promises of: “I won’t do this to myself ever again”, was another half. The worse half, if you asked Clarus. He could work through the nausea and the occasional lack of equilibrium just fine. He could fight the pounding in his head, no problem. But the fact, that he did this voluntarily was literally killing him.

He usually did not drink. The occasional night cap sometimes after a heavy day of work, but not like **this**. He was Shield to the king of Lucis; being inebriated was a luxury he could not afford. Sober and at the ready was the only way to go. But their Glacian Eve dinner got somehow out of hand.

Well, not the actual dinner part. Jared prepared everything by the time they arrived at the Amicitia manor. The retainer wished them the most joyous evening and left to celebrate with his own family. So they ate, swapped gifts and stories and tried to have a good time, despite all that has happened recently. Clarus kept glancing at the door, against all reason, hoping for Gladio to barge in as a Glacian Eve miracle. Of course, that did not happen.

What happened, after Iris bid them good night and left for bed, was Cor breaking out a bottle of Keycatrich Rosin. They all had a glass. Or two, or six. Who counted?

Now, he had a partly working second-in-command in the shape of a slightly green-faced Cor, seated in the kitchen with a bottle of painkillers and a pot of Jared’s excellent coffee. Clarus also had a killer headache and five– _five_ voicemails from Cid. He started the first one while having his own cup of coffee and lasted for about three seconds. His poor head could not take the shouting.

Clarus walked the carpeted floor of the semi dark hallway with slightly swaying steps. He knocked on the guest bedroom door, adjusting the bundle of clothes under his arm.

Regis’ muffled voice came from within, permitting entrance. Or at least, Clarus hoped it did. He could not make out the words, but stepped inside anyways. Clarus opened one of the curtains a bit before sitting down on the armchair by the bed.

‘Good morning,’ the Shield offered. The lump of bedding muttered something back. ‘I did not quite catch that.’

‘I said: I don’t see anything good in it,’ Regis repeated, now with his face visible among the layer of duvets. ‘I might be dying, Clarus.’

‘Don’t be so dramatic. We are going to put some coffee and a few painkillers in you and you’ll feel better in no time.’

Regis looked at him with all the suspicion his tired and ashen face could muster. His eyes raked over Clarus, as if analysing every bit of him to understand how he could even function after last night.

‘Did you not… like your present?’ Regis asked and, one finger emerging from the blankets, he weakly poked his friend’s wrist.

‘You threw it out the window!’ Clarus huffed in the most annoyed tone. He couldn’t believe the king forgot _that_!

‘I– What?’

‘You said you were going to warp after it, before it fell. Then you just stood by the window and watched as it disappeared into the dark of the night. Jared brought it back in this morning; and by “it”, I mean what remained of it.’

‘Please don’t tell Iris! She helped me choose,’ Regis groaned into his pillow.

‘Do not worry, Your Majesty,’ Clarus teased. ‘But you owe me another wristwatch. I want it engraved!’

‘Yes, yes. I’ll buy you a new one, naturally. Can I go back to sleep now, please?’

‘I’m afraid not. Jared has almost finished making our breakfast and I don’t think Cor can hold out much longer. So please make yourself at least partly presentable, and down we go.’

‘I am the king, you know,’ Regis groaned burying himself deeper into the bedding.

‘Then you can have the royal honour of dealing with Cid and his voicemails, Your Majesty. Because it was certainly not me, who decided to call him at three in the morning,’ Clarus mock-bowed then shoved the t-shirt and trousers at Regis. ‘Here! “A king pushes onward always” Regis. So get out of that bed and put these on.’

Regis grumblingly obliged.

‘These are falling off of me! Where are my clothes?’ the king asked, desperately trying to make the jogging trousers stay on his hips with the help of the drawstrings.

‘Jared took the liberty and prepared them for dry-cleaning. You do not want to wear your royal raiment right now, believe me.’

‘Let’s not do this ever again, if possible. I’m getting too old for hangovers this vehement,’ Regis grumbled as they left the room, Clarus steadying his steps.

‘No promises, my friend. No promises,’ the Shield laughed as they descended the stairs one step at the time. The promising smells of a hefty breakfast and the amazing aroma of coffee awaited them in the dining room.

 

This might still turn out to be a nice day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed it! See you next Wednesday!  
> P.S.: come and let's scream into each others faces about FF XV on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) !


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Forlanes are all crazy, revelations are had and vegetables made them do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to try to write anything meaningful here, as I lack the braincells at this point, but! I hope you'll enjoy reading this chapter as much as I had fun writing it! Although it was a b*tch to write, going everywhere BUT where I wanted it to go.  
> Anyways! Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more. Have fun!  
> Toodles!
> 
> Oh! Oh, and huge thanks to [amiyade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiyade/) for the super quick beta! <3

‘Ignis, I’m home!’

‘Good gods, you are drenched to the bone,’ Ignis gasped, taking the bag off Gladio’s hand.

‘Well, yeah… have you looked out the window…?’ Gladio huffed, wrestling his boots off, wet socks squelching with every shift.

To be honest Ignis did not really bother paying attention to anything that happened outside the kitchen. He was busy working on a new recipe and tending to Noctis and Prompto whenever it was needed. Besides, at this point any kind of rain related sound equalled a pleasant white noise Ignis could get lost in his thoughts to.

Thank the gods their kitchen-diner was spacious enough for the cot as well, which spared him quite some bit of running around. Maybe it was also thanks to the lack of their furniture. The cupboards and counters were still intact when they moved in. A bit of renovating and cleaning went a long way, and although it was not as modern and shiny as Ignis’ crown issued kitchen, it _was_ a perfectly good kitchen.

He kind of liked this one better. It was homey. It did not hurt that his cooking escapades made more sense with someone around who would actually eat the end result. All of it. Cooking always fascinated Ignis, the possibilities were endless with each end result more interesting than the previous. But now? Now he started to _like_ it as well.

Ignis peeked outside. The Shield was right; not even their freshly bought raincoats were a match for that sordid torrent. He ushered the dripping Gladio into the bathroom and already had a towel in his hands, moving in to dry the Shield’s hair when he startled. Gladio stared at him, half-way out of his drenched t-shirt.

By the Gods, what was he thinking? Ignis did not know if it was some misguided parental instinct kicking in or his momentary absentmindedness that lead him to that move, but either way, it was unacceptable.

‘Pardon me, I’ll wait outside,’ he gabbled, showed the towel at Gladio’s now naked chest and rushed back into the living room. He could hear the shower start up not long after. Whatever just happened, Ignis needed to forget about it so he went to put the shopping away.

 

‘Hey, Ignis’ Gladio called, idly towelling his hair. ‘I was talkin’ to Wiz and he asked if we had any plans for tomorrow?’

‘Tomorrow?’

‘It’s New Year’s.’

Oh. Right, New Year’s Eve. Ignis wasn’t really invested in most holidays up to this point. Of course, if it involved any courtly happening he got involved to a certain extent, but there was no point in celebrating on his own. Now Gladio worked like a walking, talking calendar reminding him of any and all upcoming festivities.

‘I do not think we do,’ Ignis said carefully. ‘Why? Do you need to help out at the post?’

‘No actually, there will be a party.’

‘Oh, I see… I assume I can take care of the boys that day,’ Ignis offered a bit confused. Maybe there was also a melancholy pang in his chest.

‘Do you think so little of me, that I would ditch my duty _and you_ , and go off to a party on my own?’

‘I– of course I do not think that! But the occasional time off is allowed. Even preferred, if you ask me. Being cooped up in here will only result in us going mad.’

‘Good thing you say that, because guess what! They invited all of us!’

‘Ah,’ Ignis said, surprised, but before he could formulate any kind of response, Gladio continued.

‘He said they still have one of the caravans free, so we have a place to sleep. And there will be food, drinks, tourists from all around! Fun, right?’

The question of “Can we please go?” was not asked, but very much implied in the way Gladio’s eye twinkled. He looked a bit like an overgrown puppy right at that moment.

‘I guess it would be rude to decline such a generous offer…’

‘I know, right? So, I already said yes,’ the Shield enthused.

‘Gladio…’

‘Come on, you just said that we need a bit of a time out! I also would like to help Wiz if I can, we owe him that much.’

‘Certainly. That’s the least we could do. Should we leave in the morning then?’

‘Sounds good to me! We bundle up the little goblins, you pack the bags and off we go!’

‘It’s settled then.’ Gladio’s enthusiasm did not fail to bring a smile to the adviser’s lips. ‘Care to play test subject for me?’

‘Say what?’

Ignis couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him at the aghast look on Gladio’s face.

‘I am currently trying out a new recipe. I thought a pot of hot soup wouldn’t go amiss in these horridly cold times and I need a second opinion.’

‘So that’s what I was smelling! What are we waiting for? Come on!’ he exclaimed, draping an arm around the adviser’s shoulder and steering the both of them into the kitchen.

Ignis was even more confused than in the bathroom. 

 

‘Boys! Ya are a blessing, come more often!’ Wiz greeted them, slapping Gladio on the shoulder.

‘What?’

‘The last four years we had rain pouring down on the whole merry group! Everybody had fun, but let me tell ya, celebrating the new year in a stable is just not what the townsfolk come here for.

‘But it seems, this year we’re gonna have good weather! Ramuh must favour y’all!’

Gladio and Ignis nervously smiled in answer.

‘Bllblbllllll,’ Noctis said.

‘Heya little fella! You enjoying being in the fresh air?’ Wiz tickled the prince.

‘Mmmmaa!’

‘I’m sure you do!’ Wiz looked back up. ‘Anyway boys, why this early?’

‘We thought we might be able to lend a helping hand with the preparations, if you would allow us. Gladio and myself owe you much.’

‘Well, colour me surprised boys! There is still plenty of things to do! Come on, let’s ask the lady of the house, she will know where to put ya!’

‘Lady?’ Ignis mouthed at Gladio.

‘Come on, you’ll see,’ the Shield smiled back, walking after the postmaster, Noctis happily babbling in his sling.

 

‘Gladio! Good to see you!’

‘Morning Yolanda! The help is here,’ Gladio called back, carefully bringing the chummy woman in a one-armed hug.

‘Good; there is always something to do here,’ she answered zooming in on the baby hanging off of the Shield. ‘This must be the little Noctis! Gods, so cute, you boys are so lucky, I tell ya!’ she cooed, then suddenly Ignis was in the centre of her attention. ‘And finally I can meet this Ignis of yours!’

“Finally”? What has Gladio been up to when he helped out at the post?

‘Ignis Scientia. Very nice to meet you ma’am,’ he offered, along with a handshake. Yolanda took it.

‘Yolanda Forlane, but Yolanda is fine. No calling me ma’am and some such nonsense! And who is this fluffy little chocobo here?’

‘His name is Prompto.’

‘Ah, two cute lil’ boys at the same time! You are very brave. Gods know, one son was more than enough for me,’ she joked.

‘Certainly not how we planned it going, but the universe seemed to have different thoughts. Still, we cannot complain,’ Ignis politely smiled in return.

‘Well, that’s parenting for ya, son,’ Yolanda chuckled. ‘All right, lemme play babysitter for you! Leave the boys to me, get a coffee or something and then there are some string lights waiting just for you! Chop-chop!’

Ignis peeled Prompto off of himself in a daze. He felt like when he started Crownsguard training; Yolanda had a strong-mindedness and style that rivalled their training officers.

Gladio popped up the travelling cot one-handed in a blink of an eye. Ignis definitely should not find that in any way attractive. He did.

 

‘Will they be fine?’ Ignis muttered to the Shield as they stepped off the porch.

‘Well, their son grew up without a hitch, so I guess?’ Gladio answered.

‘You guess? And what son?!’

‘Calm down, the babies will be just fine! Please stop fretting for half a day. Or at least try. We are here to help and have fun, okay?’ Gladio’s voice was placating, hopeful even. Ignis sighed.

‘Fine. I’ll go and get some coffee for us.’

‘Don’t forget my milk!’ Gladio reminded him and took Ignis’ bag without prompting as they parted ways and he made for the caravan.

 

Stringing up the lights could have gone better. Or at least quicker, but Gladio had to stop Ignis from climbing down the ladder and running for the porch whenever one of the boys started crying. That and the adviser manically planned the position of every light they put up. Wiz told them to play it by ear. The post would look fabulous anyway, come the evening.

But no, Ignis had to analyse the location of every wooden post and every angle before making a plan of attack exclaiming that they either do it right, or not do it at all. Wiz miraculously disappeared somewhere when Gladio needed the back up, so the adviser got his way in the end. The chocobo post was never this precisely decorated – the lights swaying in the breeze, the buffet tables all set up by early afternoon.

‘Your royal event organising skills are really shining here Lord Adviser,’ Gladio whispered to Ignis with a smile in his voice.

‘I’m delighted to hear that it pleases you, Lord Amicitia,’ Ignis whispered back.

‘Well, as long as you are having fun…’

‘Hey, lovebirds!’ Wiz shouted at them, mistaking their wish not to be overheard for something more intimate. ‘The wife says lunch is ready, so get washed up and get inside!’

‘Seems like we have been adopted,’ Ignis noted, a bit baffled.

‘Yeah, I think you have been adopted ever since I first told them about you,’ Gladio mentioned offhanded. Ignis wondered how much time the Shield spent talking about him whenever he came down to the chocobo post, but he did not have the courage to ask.

                 

 

Lunch, thank the gods, did not contain a single piece of gyhsal. Ignis still reeled from the smoothie they had the first time they visited. Yolanda apparently did not share the absolute love of anything chocobo-related or she might have had enough of that stuff already, but in straight contrast to the buffet’s menu, a huge steaming bowl of garula stew awaited them at the table.

Gladio ate with such enthusiasm, that Ignis made a mental note to ask for the recipe later. He also elbowed the Shield in the side when he got up to refill his bowl a third time.

‘What?’

‘Seriously?’ Ignis looked at him with one eyebrow raised.

‘Seriously, what?’ he asked back, utterly missing the point. Wiz seemed to be quicker on the uptake.

‘Let him eat, there’s plenty where that came from. Looking at those muscles, he needs it,’ he placated Ignis, who concentrated back on feeding Noctis, instead of following the train of thought about Gladio’s muscles.

‘Well, certainly,’ he conceded.

‘I don’t think that having a second–‘

‘Third,’ Ignis interjected.

‘- helping from this delicious food is rude.’

‘Talking with your mouth full, on the other hand definitely is.’

‘Sowwy–’ Gladio mumbled back, a spoonful of stew still in his mouth. ‘Anyway, this isn’t the first time I got invited and Yolanda is always happy when there are no leftovers so–’ he glared meaningfully at Ignis, then continued to wolf down the rest of his food.

‘You know what they say; you are what you eat. Don’t come crying to me when you get fat like a garulessa in winter times,’ Ignis retorted, petting Noctis’ back. The prince’s head became heavy on the adviser’s shoulder, so he excused himself and vanished into their hosts’ living room.

‘Young love, ey?’ Wiz grinned at him. Gladio nearly chocked on the last bit of stew. He did not really know what kind of vibe they emitted, but thinking about it on boring chocobo-rides to and fro between their home and the post, he came to the conclusion that it did not really matter. It was for the best that everybody assumed they were a pair.

While it was an efficient cloak against the Empire, two random dudes with two random babies would probably raise questions, sooner or later. But since everybody instinctively penned them down as a happy young couple with their adopted sons… there were no questions and so, no problems.

Well, there were questions, which Gladio managed to dodge up till now, but they really should agree on a background story that matched. They needed to talk.

He helped to clean the table, the least he could do after such a good meal and went outside in search of Ignis. He found the adviser idling on the porch, back to a beam, a cup of coffee in his hands – to nobody’s surprise.

The weather was still blessedly dry, although with the sun wandering evermore closer to the horizon, it also became chillier. Still, it was better in leaps and bounds then through all of December, so Gladio really did not want to complain. Some of the post’s guests mingled outside, some fed and petted the chocobos, some disappeared in the direction of the race tracks.

‘Hey, come here often?’ Gladio joked, an arm up on the beam above the adviser’s head. Ignis took a sip from his cup with an amused tilt of his lips in answer.

‘I hope you do not tell people you roused my interest in this fashion. Nobody would believe it,’ Ignis shot him down.

‘Hey, there’s nothing wrong with my flirting-technique! But that’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Not flirting! How we “got together”.’

Ignis regarded him over the top of his paper cup. Must have thought it a wise course of action and nodded.

‘Very well, but perhaps we should move this to a more private setting.’

‘Kiss! Kiss!’ someone shouted behind them. That someone happened to be Yolanda, now standing in the door, Prompto in her arms. Both looked at her like anak stags caught in the headlights. She pointed at something above them. ‘It’s tradition!’

They looked up in tandem, only to discover a sad piece of root vegetable hung up above their heads with a bicoloured cord.

‘That’s a gysahl green,’ Gladio deadpanned.

‘Of course it is! And if ya happen to stand under it with your better half at _this_ chocobo post young man, then ya have to kiss,’ she added, gently rocking Prompto in her arms.

‘Come now love, you are embarrassing them,’ Wiz appeared in the doorway, trying hard to sound strict, but failing enormously. ‘Don’t ya have enough fun with the little ones? Leave the boys be!’

Yolanda only grinned at her husband, pointing above their own heads.

‘Shiva’s tits, how many of these things have ya put up woman?’ the postmaster asked, but still went in for a kiss with a loud smack. Now, the both of them were looking at Gladio and Ignis expectantly. Traitors, Gladio thought. Although from where they were standing it shouldn’t be a big deal to kiss your significant other. From where Gladio was standing on the other hand, it looked like a very big deal to kiss his very much platonic co-parent.

He was roused from his thoughts as he felt a warm palm on his neck. Ignis’ thumb ran over his cheek as he spoke:

‘We shouldn’t brake tradition then,’ the adviser said and in the next second Gladio could feel lips against his own. The kiss was soft, tasted of coffee and left Gladio in a daze. If anybody asked him, it was also entirely too short. But nobody did.

‘If you would excuse us, we have something we urgently need to discuss,’ Ignis said and he let go of Gladio. As they walked off in the direction of the caravan (although Gladio felt more like a zombie, wandering after Ignis), they could hear the postmaster ask his wife:

‘Is that what young people call it these days?’

Yolanda’s laugh followed them on the way over.

 

‘I’m most sorry,’ Ignis offered as soon as the flimsy door closed after them.

Ignis shouldn’t be sorry. He should kiss him again with those caffeine-lips.

Gladio bundled these thoughts up along with the heavy beating of his heart and threw them into a dark room in the back of his mind, bound and gagged.

‘No worries, I mean it was fine– I–,’ Gladio scratched at his neck. ‘I’ll just stop talking now. But you have nothing to be sorry for.’

‘Thank you.’ Ignis looked relieved and yet, somehow antsy at the same time. Silence settled between them as they stood awkwardly in the lukewarm caravan.

‘That was what I wanted to talk to you about before– yeah,’ the Shield admitted. ‘Our “cover” I mean.’

‘Ah, yes, certainly a problem we need to discuss,’ Ignis agreed. ‘I was not expecting us to be this… social. But I must agree that keeping a close relationship with our lovely neighbours could prove beneficial.’

‘Beneficial?’ Gladio spat, his voice taking on an edge.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Are you incapable of thinking of anything else _but_ assets and plans? These are nice people who have taken a liking to us and helped us out, not tools in our mission.’

‘I– I know that.’

‘Do you now?’

‘Would you stop insinuating that I’m some– some heartless monster taking advantage of everything and everyone?’

‘Maybe you showing some emotion and not calling people “benefits” would help disrupt that picture.’

‘Oh, I have plenty of emotions right now, Gladiolus, but listing them would be most un-gentlemanly,’ Ignis hissed stepping just a tad closer to the Shield. He wouldn’t be the one to back down from this. Gladio took a step closer on instinct as well; forefinger pointed at Ignis.

He would be lying if he said he did not want to throttle the adviser at that very moment. It was dizzying in contrast with him wanting to kiss Ignis just a minute ago. He opened his mouth and raised his finger one more time, but ultimately retreated with a grunt. The caravan’s door almost falling off as he slammed it shut on his way out.

 

It was a good five minutes later that Ignis followed suit, slinking back to his charges. The prickly feeling in his eyes did not want to leave him. Maybe the boys or Yolanda’s chatter would take his mind off of all his conflicting emotions.

 

‘All right, Your Majesty. Last chance! Are you absolutely sure you do not want to come over?’

‘Perfectly and absolutely sure, Lord Amicitia. I would not want to impose on Lady Iris’ New Year’s Slumber Party,’ Regis answered, his poker-face crumbling almost instantly.

‘You traitor,’ his friend muttered as they walked languidly towards the king’s chambers.

‘That just now, qualifies as high treason, my dear Shield!’

‘Take me into custody then. Couldn’t be worse than chaperoning my daughter and her chirpy friends all night long. She made Jared buy fizzy drinks! There’s sugar in those, Regis! Mark my words: they won’t go to sleep. Ever.’

‘You will live, I imagine. Big, heroic Shield, like you…’

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, my liege,’ Clarus laughed, accompanying it with an eyebrow wiggle. ‘Why can’t she just… I don’t know, be like–‘

‘–we have been? Clarus, do I have to remind you of the Royal New Year’s Eve Party of 716?’

‘Please, don’t,’ his Shield groaned as if in physical pain. That has been a fun night, followed by two whole months of house arrest. There was nothing else but school and training and chores and horror. That must have been the longest he was apart from his king. Aulea somehow managed to dodge it all, of course. Maybe the trick was in standing in an immaculate dress and with the face of an angel, while the boys had the contents of a whole buffet table upon their persons. Oh, and the buffet table, of course. And it wasn’t even their fault!

‘What is so funny?’

‘Just remembered the face His Majesty made, when he found us.’

‘Oh, it was entirely worth the trouble, wasn’t it?’ Regis smirked at the memory.

‘I for one, would have skipped the punishment we got instead of Aulea. I still don’t know how she managed to upturn a whole table…’ Clarus rattled on, but clapped his mouth shut as soon as he felt Regis falter in his step. ‘I am sorry, Regis. I should not have brought that up…’

‘Will it get any easier?’

‘Easier? I don’t know. But you get used to the new life you have to live with that hole in it…’

Regis only hummed, as they came to a halt in front of his doors.

‘Thank you for escorting me back.’

‘Well, to be honest you looked like shit, when they finished recording your new year’s message. Wouldn’t want to have my King fainting on his way home on my conscious,’ Clarus grinned.

‘Lucky me,’ Regis smiled back. ‘Go on, I will not steal you away from your darling daughter any longer. I can hear my chocobo down feather pillows call my name…’

‘Right,’ Clarus huffed. He gave Regis a brief, but firm hug. ‘Happy New Year!’

‘Happy New Year, Clarus! Do give Iris my love! And please, please for all that’s holy; do not text me.’

‘As His Majesty wishes!’ Clarus agreed, making a two finger salute as he vanished the way he came.

 

Just a bit after midnight, Regis blinked owlishly at the harsh blinking of his phone. He decided to tell Clarus to stuff his new year wishes, where the sun does not shine. But only in the morning.

 

Gladio sat at the edge of the porch, eyes on the celebrating people. The sun has set about an hour ago and he had to accept that Ignis was right. The lights truly looked stunning in this composition. There must have been at least twenty guests at the post. Twenty-five tops; a miniscule number compared to anything he ever attended back in the Crown City.

Some kind of music was playing from the speakers set up around the post. It didn’t ring any bells with Gladio, but he was not really well versed in this genre. The guests danced, demolished the free buffet and there was always a smallish line to the punch bowls. He could see Ignis making small talk with a group of the visiting tourists, his posture stiff, his face the same he plastered on in the Council meetings.

Yolanda was nowhere to be seen; if it was because of the boys or the guests, Gladio did not know. At first he felt bad. This was supposed to be their duty. He (or Ignis) should be the one to come running if one of the babies needed something. He only let the whole thing slide after Wiz reassured him, that his wife was over the moon finally being able to care for “the little cuties”. Who was Gladio to take that away from her? Maybe the prospect of a little babe-free-time also factored into that decision.

A fresh mug of steaming punch filled his vision.

‘Care to talk about it?’ Wiz asked, plopping down on the musty boards beside Gladio.

‘Not really…’

‘Well, suit yourself, son, but I think it’s better out than in.’

‘Heh, my father used to say the same,’ Gladio huffed.

‘Maybe it’s good advice then,’ Wiz baited.

‘It’s just–’ Just what? Gladio sipped at his drink, enjoying the burning sensation and contemplating how to best say what weighed down his mind, without giving away too much. ‘Usually we understand each other well, but sometimes he just says some shit and I get angry about it and–’ a huge sigh erupted from him. ‘None of us really leaves time for the other to explain themselves, I guess.’

‘It seems to me like ya have this figured out my boy,’ Wiz enthused, clapping him on the shoulder. At Gladio’s confused blinking, he continued. ‘You see what the problem is, is what I’m sayin’. And that’s always half the solution. Talk to him.’

‘I don’t really wanna,’ he sulked into his cup.

‘Well, again, that’s up to you. But if ya would accept a piece of advice from a long-time married man: never go to bed angry. Especially not on a night like this. Life’s too short.’

The postmaster clapped him on the shoulder again and wandered over to the chocobo stalls to entertain some of the guests.

Gladio just stared at Ignis for a few more minutes, hands clutching the disposable cup like a lifeline. Then he suddenly downed the punch, went over to the bowl and downed the refill as well, constantly keeping an eye on Ignis’ position in the little group. A bit of liquid courage could not hurt.

He crossed the distance with hurried steps, slightly swaying halfway through. What did Wiz put in that punch, he wondered?

‘Good evening!’ he addressed the people milling around the adviser. ‘Ignis.’

Ignis took his sweet time finally turning his head and acknowledging him. Gladio noticed even in the dim light how reddened his cheeks were and how his eyes twinkled, and not even the haughty look on his face could foul it.

‘Gladiolus.’

Ignis looked like he was perfectly fine where he was, hips cocked, cup of punch in his hand. No intention whatsoever to let Gladio talk to him where it was only the two of them. Gladio needed to think fast, which proved difficult. Was it him, or did the things in the distance become blurry on their own? The song changed to a slow tune.

‘May I have this dance?’

‘Gladio–’

‘Please?’ he tried again, left hand thrust between them, palm up. Either one of the Astrals listened to his plea, or Ignis took pity on account of the desperate look in his eyes. He excused himself, took Gladio’s hand and let him lead them to the impromptu dance floor.

As much as Ignis did not seem to have a problem with that sneaky surprise kiss earlier that afternoon, there was entirely too much fumbling when they reached the other couples. They started swaying to the rhythm, arms finally around each other and hips and other bits a safe distance away. The last thing Gladio needed in this discussion was the added stress of a maybe-boner with Ignis basically draped over him, his breath puffing against the sensitive skin of his neck. Nope, not now, thank you very much.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gladio finally managed to murmur close to Ignis’ ear. Ignis only huffed. Gladio kept them moving slowly to the music. He could see their hosts having a weird little dance on the other side of the floor. Well, with both the boys hanging off of them, it must have been difficult to do the usual “hug and sway” the couples seemed to prefer. They seemed so happy.

‘I am sorry too, Gladiolus.’

‘Well, you calling me _that_ just proves, that you are still not really happy with me,’ Gladio noted. It was true; Ignis usually tended to call him by the shorter version of his name nowadays, but whenever there was any bristling between them, he always reverted back to “Gladiolus”. The Shield did not really mind; although it was a constant reminder of their life in the Crown City as his father did the same routine, it was also a good indicator of how Ignis felt towards him in any given moment. Right now, it seemed not too positively.

‘I have every reason not to be,’ Ignis countered, adjusting his arms around Gladio’s shoulder. Gods, they were so close. Maybe too close; that small space between their bodies disappearing with every step they took. Ignis probably also felt the whole body shudder his fingers elicited, as they brushed along the Shield’s nape. Gladio mentally slapped himself, he needed to concentrate damnit!

‘I know. I was way too harsh– I don’t even know why it made me so mad, I just–!’

‘I might have an inkling,’ Ignis murmured into his neck. Gladio would have very much enjoyed that, if not for the adviser’s glasses slowly embedding into his skin. ‘You do everything the same way, Gladio; no wonder you care so fiercely as well. And you have spent more time with these people than I did…

‘But I do like them, you know?’

‘I know Ignis,’ he admitted moving them slowly in a half circle back to the edge of the deck where it was calmer. Ignis let him, seemingly happy where he was draped over the Shield. Gladio continued. ‘It’s just–, sometimes I just can’t stomach how you see things, always planning, always– thinking! Like there is no place for anything else in that big brain of yours.’

‘There isn’t. But there is plenty of space in that big heart of mine.’ Ignis lifted his head to look the Shield dead in the eye. He could keep up the serious face only for a short time, then snorted very uncharacteristically, cheeks flushing a nice peach. Gladio had no time to marvel on it as Ignis quickly hid his face again. For a moment, Gladio was thrown. Then it clicked.

‘Ignis Scientia, are you tipsy?’ he laughed.

‘I’m afraid so. Very unprofessional, this.’

‘Yeah, maybe, but it’s new year’s and look! We have two highly capable adults to replace us for the evening, so in my books, all is well.’

‘Yolanda does seem delighted,’ Ignis added. The song slowly turned into something a bit more upbeat, leaving them standing awkwardly a breath away until Gladio spoke.

‘How about some punch?’

‘Maybe one more cup couldn’t hurt,’ the adviser agreed righting his glasses.

 

 

And it did not, in the end. Talking came easy again, maybe because of the drinks, maybe just thanks to whatever natural dynamic they possessed. Of course, Ignis vanished from time to time just to see that everything was well with their charges.

‘So,’ Ignis spoke, returning from one his baby-checks sitting down and leaning closer to Gladio.

‘So?’

‘What was it exactly you wished to discuss earlier?’

‘Oh, that!’ Gladio trailed off. He was so immersed in the night going well, he forgot all about _that_. Although he did not manage to persuade Ignis to get back on the dancefloor, talking was just as fun and flowing free, the cups of punch warming their bellies. But, no time like the present! – or so they say, so he continued. ‘Just thought to get our stories straight. The more we stay here in the hills, the more people will remember us and I don’t want any of them suspicious…’

‘A wise decision, but probably a moot point. Everyone we meet just assumes us married anyway,’ Ignis sighed.

‘Yeah, folks around here seem to do that,’ the Shield answered with a nervous chuckle. ‘But we have the same name and two babies, so I can’t fault them.’

‘Still…’ Ignis pondered silently. ‘It seems to be the most likely explanation to our situation, so I have no problems going with that. Is that acceptable for you?’

Wow, Ignis just made it official – they were fake-husbands. Gladio guessed they were fake-husbands for more than a month now, but this was _them_ saying it now, not some random stranger.

‘Yeah, okay,’ Gladio breathed out a laugh. ‘If anybody would have told me a year ago, that this would happen…’

‘Certainly an unforeseen turn of events,’ Ignis agreed, a small crease appearing between his brows. He looked as if shocked by whatever it was that suddenly flitted through his mind. ‘But I must say, I’m happy you volunteered to stay with the prince in the end. I’m glad you came with us.’

If Gladio wasn’t absolutely certain, that he didn’t just got pummelled in the chest by a sledgehammer, he would have looked down to make sure. Now he just stared at Ignis, unable to react to that comment in any way. Would he have preferred to stay in the Crown City with his family? Yes, definitely. Did he miss his old life? Sure, but he was not miserable out here. If he thought about it now, he would be even as bold as to say he was… happy. And that was a prospect so entirely scary, that Gladio refused to dwell on it.

‘Boys, hurry up! It’s almost time!’ Yolanda hollered at them, one hand waving a bottle around.

‘Come on; let’s get that new year started,’ Gladio grunted as he heaved himself up. ‘Gods, how long have we been sitting here? I’m all cramped up.’

‘At least three hours, I would wager,’ Ignis guessed as they walked up to the other guests; Yolanda pushing a flute glass in both their hands as soon as they got close enough.

‘It’s nothing fancy,’ she admitted, nodding at the glasses, ‘but there is no New Year’s Eve without a glass of sparkling wine!’

It really was nothing fancy. If Ignis had been asked, he might have said it was a bland beverage, but any thoughts of delicious Crown City wines dissolved in the group’s loud countdown a second later.

‘TEN! NINE! EIGHT!’ Gladio put his free arm around Ignis. ‘SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!’ Ignis moved a tad closer. ‘FOUR! THREE!’ Gladio grinned at him. ‘TWO!’ Ignis smiled back, their faces only a few centimetres away. ‘ONE!!’

 

‘HAPPY NEW YEAR!’ the crowd cheered, clouds of cheap confetti suddenly everywhere. Couples kissed. Noctis started bawling full force. Prompto as the good side-kick he was, joined in after a bit.

‘Oh poor little darlings, come on!’ Yolanda cooed, lifting Prompto out of the sling. ‘Here, it’s all right, look! Your daddies are here!’

Ignis and Gladio shared a look, clinked their glasses and drank the wine in one go.

‘Duty calls, “daddy”, Ignis snickered exchanging his flute for Prompto, coddling him to his chest. ‘Shh, it’s all right now.’

‘They have eaten not too long ago,’ Wiz informed them, as he handed the still crying Noctis to Gladio.

‘Off to bed then, little goblins!’ the Shield declared, running his hands soothingly up and down the prince’s back. ‘Thank you for babysitting!’

‘It was very generous of you, I hope it did not cause you any trouble,’ Ignis seconded.

‘My pleasure boys,’ Yolanda enthused, clapping her hands together. ‘Any time ya need a bit of a breather!’

Ignis nodded, wished their hosts a very good night and left for the caravan. Gladio happily noted the sway in his steps. It was reassuring that not only he was effected by the too quickly drank alcohol. Wiz clapped him on the shoulder.

‘There will be fireworks in about half an hour. The top of the caravan’s a nice place to watch it from,’ he winked.

‘And breakfast is at eight sharp, so don’t be late!’ Yolanda added.

‘Ah, alright, okay– see you in the morning then,’ Gladio answered and hurried after Ignis.

 

They managed to get the boys to bed just as the first dull “thump-tssss” echoed through the post. Ignis looked up confused, but Gladio only grabbed him by the arm, snatched their blankets up in the other hand and rushed outside.

‘What is happening?’

‘Just, come on!’ the Shield laughed, climbing up the side of their lodging. Ignis followed suit and had to chuckle at the sight. Gladio sitting on top of the trailer, one of the blankets spread under him, the other draped over his shoulder.  He held out one corner in his other hand inviting Ignis to join him. He even waggled his eyebrows. It reminded the adviser of some comic-relief of a vampire, clumsily trying to lure in his next victim. Ignis went anyway.

They stared at the far off fireworks in a comfortable silence. They burnt in marvellous colours and sparkled in a shower of bright speckles before becoming one with the dark skies of Duscae.

Ignis felt elated like probably never before. Not in recent times for sure. Maybe it was the breath-taking view sprawling before their eyes, perhaps it was that last glass of sparkling wine they had. Possibly, just possibly it could have been being this close and cosy with Gladio.

Whatever the reason, Ignis turned and placed a soft kiss on the Shield’s face.

‘Happy New Year, Gladio!’ he murmured. There was hesitation, Gladio’s throat working audibly. Ignis felt the arm around him get tighter.

‘Happy New Year!’

                 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> (As per usual, I hope you enjoyed it and if you feel so inclined, come see me on me [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/)  
> See you next week!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor goes on a date, Noctis is so done with everything and things get hot under the duvet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, it's getting saucy...or is it? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> Also, sorry, no beta this week, we die like men...

Ignis was– not to sound dramatic, but he was _torn_. Neither Gladio nor himself even mentioned the happenings on New Year’s Eve.

Not that they should, per se. None of them were blushing twelve year olds, with skewed world views and fairy tale dreams of marrying the love of their life; Ignis was a sometimes-blushing seventeen-year-old and he very well knew that it meant nothing. Arguing and kissing and doing romantic things and exchanging looks (way too deep for the adviser’s liking) did not turn Ignis into a lovesick puppy.

Oh no.

But, they went, hand in hand with “Close Proximity” and their good friend, “Too much Free Time” and opened up a box hidden so deep in Ignis’ thoughts, that not even he himself knew about its existence.       

Now, you see, having barely enough free time to eat and sleep was a good deterrent for any of the regular things a seventeen-year-old boy would be interested in. (Sex; it was usually sex.) Naturally, there were times when Ignis used his hands for things other than filing reports and wielding daggers. But all and any serious thought about relationships or even flings got smothered by Duty™.

Here in the outlands, Duty got demoted to babysitting and housekeeping. Neither changing the nappies nor chopping vegetables required all that much brainpower. It left Ignis antsy. Still, logic dictated that such thoughts as running fingers through Gladio’s ever growing mane, or straddling him on the couch, or licking up his magnificent abdominals or– well…

 _These_ kind of thoughts had to be eliminated with the coldness of a professional assassin, who only held any interest in what bounty he got; and in whose opinion, buying ice cream and chopping somebody’s head off rather creatively were probably around the same height morality-wise.    

So Ignis decided to keep living the way he did before cuddling Gladio at nights became a thing in his life and was determined not to do anything about any kind of urges, fake-marriage or not. He would rather fall off the roof again… 

It did not really help that Gladio was not tired of curling up to him at nights; it did not help that they lived in the middle of nowhere and it was only the two of them, which could lead to interesting developments; it did not help that Gladio turned out to be Ignis’ type (and before all this, he was not even aware he had one!).

And it certainly did not help, that Gladio just walked into the kitchen, dressed only in his training pants, upper body glistening with a sheen of sweat. Ignis felt his brain cells bid their goodbyes. He was also most assuredly staring. Rude.

‘Ignis? You okay?’

‘The tattoo,’ Ignis blurted in no relation to the question whatsoever. Oh, Gods, he really must be getting daft. Gladio looked on, confused. ‘Do you not wish to finish it?’

‘Yeah, it would be nice, I guess. But, I would need some money for that,’ Gladio reasoned, bringing the towel to his nape. ‘Don’t really have the time to headhunt tattoo artists either. I wouldn’t even know where to start out here.’

Ignis only hummed, seizing the chance to look at the lines panning over Gladio’s body; an idea slowly forming in his head. Perhaps… He stepped closer to the Shield, one hand lifted.

‘May I?’

‘Ye-yeah,’ Gladio nodded.

He could see the goose-bumps break out all over Gladio’s skin when Ignis went around him, observing the half-done outline of the bird. Ignis was neither an ornithologist, nor very good at art, but surely there were still bits missing. Touching was the worst course of action he could take, especially after his previous resolution, but his fingers seemed to move on their own volition. He traced some of the half-done feathers on Gladio’s shoulder blade, a shiver rippling through the skin under his fingertips.

‘I’m sorry, did not mean to make you uncomfortable,’ Ignis apologised, stepping back around.

‘I think we are way past some random touching making any of us uncomfortable,’ Gladio joked. ‘Just surprised. How you like it?’

‘It surely will be marvellous, once finished. Is there much work to be done yet?’

‘Still need some outlines added on my back and my arms, then I guess it’ll be filling in the rest. That would take a shit-ton of time,’ he sighed, then remorsefully added: ‘If I ever get around to get it done, that is.’      

‘We should keep our eyes and ears open, in any case. It would be a waste, not to see it done.’    

Gladio hummed in answer.

‘You know; my dad has the same design,’ he added, after a brief pause. ‘It’s some kind of family tradition. Though I have no frickin’ idea where it came from. Or why only the men can have it…I mean it’s 736, for fff– fudge’s sake.’

Ignis thought himself to be too young to have heart problems, but that did not stop the swelling feeling coming from his chest. It was so inherently Gladio, to get worked up on behalf of others. It was also cute.

‘Well, some historical sources state that Her Majesty, Crepera Lucis Caelum had a lady Shield. But most facts about her are indeed only speculations. She was a very secretive lady.

‘I assume it’s not so farfetched to think about future Amicitias sharing in the tradition of getting that design tattooed on their body, regardless of gender,’ Ignis tried to helpfully add.     

‘How can you fit all that information into here,’ Gladio asked, poking him on the forehead with a careful finger, smiling all the way.

‘It is nothing special, I’m sure others aside me have the ability to memorise things.’

‘Yeah, but I still think you’re amazing.’

‘Come now,’ Ignis fended it off, along with any future compliments that could embarrass him.

Gladio went over to the sink, filled a glass and chugged it down in three huge gulps. The silence continued. It was neither heavy nor disturbing, but it signalled the end of their chitchat, so Ignis pulled his little notebook from one of the drawers and sat by the table, calculating. He did not pay the Shield direct attention, but could hear Gladio putter about by the counter with his glass. The fridge door was opened, then closed. Silence again.

            

‘Does it bother you?’

Ignis looked up sharply, the question taking him by surprise.

‘What does?’

‘The way I sleep. Or we sleep, or whichever way you wanna look at it,’ Gladio rushed out, studying Ignis with a concerned face as the adviser prepared for an answer.

‘It certainly is unusual for me, but I’m sure I had plenty of time and occasion to voice any concerns regarding our current sleeping arrangement.’

‘True,’ Gladio agreed going back to playing with the glass. It was a very old glass, left by the previous owners. There were a few glasses and cups, some pots and pans, plates that had seen happier days. Ignis contemplated the handful of mismatched cutlery they owned now and dreamed of buying a matching set of, well, _everything._ Then he looked at the numbers in his ledger and could picture in his mind’s eye as they murdered his unborn, future kitchen.

           

‘What did those notes ever do to you?’

‘They lack the right numbers,’ Ignis complained.

‘What? Are we out of money?’

‘No, of course not…well, not yet. But this sum will be substantially lower, once we manage to start the repairs upstairs,’ he admitted. ‘Still, we will be fine for some time yet.’

‘Okay,’ Gladio accepted, but did not look reassured at all.

‘Gladio,’ Ignis called, looking reassuringly at his partner. ‘We _will_ be fine.’

‘Yeah, yeah I know. I’ll just concentrate on playing dad and staying in shape; you always seem to think of everything anyway,’ he grinned in answer.

‘Of course I do,’ Ignis smirked back at him. ‘Help me with dinner?’

‘Sure, what are we eating?’

‘I have found the most amazing funguars at the chocobo post kiosk,’ Ignis enthused. ‘So I was thinking veggie stew.’

‘Hm, yum!’ Gladio’s sarcasm got him a well-aimed hit in the side. ‘Ow! Hey!’

‘Oh, hush, and wash the potatoes.’

‘Yes, Sir…’

 

January was possibly the dullest month of all. The weather always bleak, the hype of the holidays prior leaving a restless kind of gap in life. Gladio tried to fill that void with working out their training regime. Maybe “regime” was a strong word for what they did now, especially compared to what they usually went through while training to be a Crownsguard.

But if it was small bouts of working out and sparring together when they could, then Gladio would gladly take it. It was way better than just sitting around. They needed to stay in shape.

For now, things were calm. No news from the Crown City, no whispers among the locals about any threatening imperial forces. Things were calm, but one could never know what might happen, so a meagre training was better than dying in an ambush, because he got fat on Ignis’ amazing hotpots. Gods, was he getting good at them!

So, he made work out plans and gave suggestions. Ignis seemed genuinely surprised at the very apt list Gladio put together for him. Or maybe delighted? Relieved? Gladio couldn’t say, really, but Ignis was happy, so it was a win.

           

And so January vanished in a cold blur, and February was soon swept in by even more cold and rain, to the surprise of nobody. Gladio fantasised about setting the whole leaky shithole on fire while sitting in front of the fireplace one evening, limbs frozen from the jog he went on earlier. Maybe he should wait for spring at least…

Let it burn, he thought staring into the dancing flames, let it burn and let’s move to Galdin. Or even Lestallum would be fine. But no, they had to stay here, where it was wetter than Ramuh’s gods damned beard in a storm.

The other thing that came in February was probably even worse than the continuous drizzle. Princess started to act moodier and moodier. He cried, day in day out.

Ignis was working himself into a frenzy over it. Gladio caught him a few days earlier, sitting alone at the kitchen table and muttering to himself, repeating stuff from the baby books. Gladio tried to be the farthest away from the prince at any given moment when he was awake (which wasn’t all that far, given how small that stupid cottage was).

He also tried to take Prompto with him, because more often than not, Prompto felt like Noctis needed the back-up, or the kid was insanely emphatic. Or babies just cried, when other babies cried. Who was Gladio to know shit like that? He had his own room very-very far from Iris’ nursery. He was also pre-occupied with becoming the most famous Shield in Lucis. And a video game called King’s Knight. Okay, mostly playing King’s Knight; but in any case, he did not pay much attention to the developmental stages of his sister.

He regretted it a bit. But not much; that game was awesome. 

After two hours of listening to continuous and desperate crying and other assorted baby-noises from the kitchen, he took the empty bottle from Prompto’s cute grip and looked him dead in the eyes.

‘Okay shorty, let’s make a deal. You promise not to do whatever your not-brother is doing come April, and I’ll get the both of us out of here right _now_.’

Prompto stared at him with those stupidly amazing eyes of his, a bit of formula dripping down his chin. He made a noise.

‘Good, I take it as a yes! Let’s go.’ Now he only needed to plead with Ignis.

The adviser was standing by the counter, sniffling Noctis hugged to his chest. He was eyeing the coffee machine with such despaired eyes, that somebody randomly stumbling upon the scene might have thought somebody just died.

‘I can’t even have a coffee…it’s too loud…can’t risk,’ he muttered. Maybe it was Ignis who needed to get the hell out of here, but Gladio’s mind was set. He needed at least an hour. An hour free of even the danger of Noctis’ crying. Because this? This was just a clever tactic to lull them into a false sense of victory; the silence before the storm.

‘Ignis, I need to get out of here,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll be back soon, okay? Then we can switch.’

‘Yeah, fine…fine,’ Ignis mumbled. He looked like was starting to lose this battle of wills. Or his marbles…

           

So Gladio backed out of the kitchen, bundled Prompto and himself in the most waterproof clothing he could find and in half an hour, they were sitting on the porch of the chocobo post, some kind of shake in hand. Prompto fell asleep on the way here.

They should try taking Noctis on a chocobo ride, maybe he would fall asleep too. Things couldn’t get much worse than they were right now.

Gladio’s eardrums happily took in the relative silence. No crying, bawling, hiccupping and sniffling. Heavens, it was priceless.

‘Did ya have another argument my boy?’ Wiz asked perplexed, as he noticed the Shield.

‘Wha–?! No! No,’ Gladio corrected, rubbing his eyes. ‘Noctis has been crying for…I don’t know, probably years now…or at least it feels like it. I just needed some fresh air, before I take over the spawn of Ifrit himself.’

‘I know it’s tough sometimes, but in the end, it’ll be all worth it,’ Wiz laughed.

‘Yeah, yeah. I know.’ He definitely did not know. ‘It’s just like…psychological torture! And if you think I’m having it bad, you should see Ignis. He couldn’t make coffee and I swear he almost cried.’

Gladio sighed. It wasn’t really fair, leaving Ignis like that. They promised to be a team and all Gladio did up to this point was slink off with Prompto. He quickly downed his drink and stood.

‘I need to go back, thanks for the talk!’ Gladio almost rushed off, but the post master grabbed him by the jacket.

‘Just wait a moment, okay?’ he said and vanished into his home. Gladio looked after him baffled. He was also itching to hop on his chocobo and get the hell out of there. Then, as if by some miracle an idea struck him and he rushed over to the kiosk.

 

Ignis hoped the hallucinations would only get to him in about two or three more days. Apparently, he was wrong. He could smell food and a can of Ebony was floating in front him. He was quite sure they did not have any of those last time he checked.

 

‘Ignis! Hey, you okay?’ a distant and whispery voice asked him. He slowly refocused his eyes and concentrated on the face behind the Ebony. Not much luck on that front, but the can! It was still there! Now it was pushed into his waiting palm. Twenty seconds later its content was gone.

‘I don’t think you should have drank that in one go…’ Gladio slowly noted, squinting at him. ‘Here, food! Yolanda sends her regards,’ he said, setting the table and uncovering the pot.

Ignis was happy just by smelling their dinner. Not like anybody would have guessed it with the vacant expression currently stuck on his face. He was elated, when it occurred to him, that he did not have to spend precious time and energy wasting away at the stove.

Yet, he was stuck where he was standing, staring at nothing, empty coffee can in hand. Gladio had to physically steer him to one of the chairs and sit him down. In the next second, a spoon was forced into his grip and a bowl of something appeared before him.

‘Eat,’ Gladio murmured. Ignis ate. The next thing he knew, Gladio was up in his face, fingers clumsily trying to pop the small buttons free and muttering something along the lines of ‘stupid, shitty dress shirts’. The Shield smelled nice. Ignis hoped he did not say that out loud. 

‘Yeah, you did,’ Gladio snickered and tucked the adviser into the bed. Ignis was out cold in mere seconds. ‘Shit, when did he last sleep properly?’

Gladio really needed to pay more attention to baby-care being divided evenly, because knowing Ignis, he would just do everything by himself. And that was so not okay in Gladio’s opinion. Fair’s fair.

           

So, he checked the door and settled on the couch with a book. He could enjoy the time until his highness decided to re-join the land of the living and try to drive them to committing suicide with his constant weeping.

Gladio gave him one more day. If he did not stop, maybe a visit to the doctors was in order. But now, silence and some good reading. Ah, yes.

 

Next morning – was it morning already? – Gladio woke on the couch by way of Ignis shaking his shoulders. Or maybe he was trying to rip them off, going by the force he was doing it with.

‘Gladio, Gladio come on! I know what Noctis’ problem is!’ Ignis desperately cried. Gladio sat up and looked at the adviser with barely open eyes.  

‘Is he dying?’  

‘No!’  

‘Then let me sleep. Please,’ he begged and went to lie back down. He had to do a “double shift” last night, because Ignis was so out of it, that not even Noctis could wake him. So yes, just another hour would be good…

‘Gladio, no!’ Ignis caught him by the shoulders again, wheeling him back into a sitting position. ‘He is teething! Noctis is teething!’ he enthused.

Ignis face went from happy of having an epiphany to thinking real hard in milliseconds, then it fell completely. Gladio watched as dread gradually creeped up his features and Ignis plopped down onto the couch beside him.

‘Oh, Gods, he is teething…’

Gladio patted him emphatically on the knee and laid back, eyes already closing.

 

Life got a tad less difficult after the problem got identified. Their small freezer was now full of stuff that Noctis could safely chew on. It helped. A bit.

Wiz came around to check out the situation with their leaky excuse of a roof and agreed to help them out. Naturally they had to wait for spring and a warmer weather – they could have also waited for the rain to stop, but the end of the world had statistically more chance of happening, than Duscae having a dry season. Dryer, sure. Dry? Now that was some other regions’ specialty. So they shook hands on late March.

Gladio couldn’t wait to finally set up the rooms. This whole camping in the living room thing was starting to get old. Soon they will be able to…camp out in their shared room. Well, at least there will be a semblance of privacy and the babies will be in _their_ own room, so Gladio considered it a step up.

The whole downside of it all, in Gladio’s opinion was that he would be forced into an even more intimate setting with Ignis. Which should not be a problem as such, but he had the faint feeling that he was…starting to have a…crush on the adviser.

And who could fault him? Ignis was good looking, kind and so very smart that half of the royal council paled in comparison. Not speaking about that amazing, lean body Gladio was lucky enough to cuddle up to most nights. And the food!

Yeah, they sometimes bickered like the married couple they pretended to be, but given that they still had to learn a lot about each other, it was understandable. But most things came easy to them; they made a good team around the house, around the babies, they proved to be good sparring partners; it was as if they were made for each other…

 

Gladio gulped. Okay, no, he definitely had a crush.

Fuck.

 

Cor had not been this scared in his entire life, he thought, as the remains of the Regalia were slowly taken off the trailer. Regis not only found Cor playing mechanic for a day an amazing cover story, he even laughed at him, when Cor tried to reason with his king.

The meeting with his Tenebraen contact did not make him want to make a run for it. Meeting Cid on the other hand made him wish he faced Gilgamesh instead. But he reached the point of no return, so he escorted the royal convertible into the Hammerhead garage.

‘Thanks, Tom,’ Cid hollered at his co-mechanic, who only nodded back, lifting his trucker cap and left the building. ‘Well, look who the cat dragged in! Cor Leonis as he lives and breathes.’

There shouldn’t be anything menacing about a wiry man, closer to his fifties than anything; still, Cid somehow had that aura you did not want to mess with. And he was getting closer. Cor stood his ground.

‘Old girl, look at you,’ the mechanic said, slowly running his glowed fingers over the unmarred bits of the Regalia. Then he focused on the marshal. ‘What were you thinking, you little shit?’

Cor opened his mouth to tell Cid where to stuff it, but his words got stuck as he found himself in a quick and surprisingly strong embrace.

‘What–?’

‘It would have been lame for Cor the Immortal to die in a car crash,’ he smiled.

‘Don’t get soft own me now, Sophiar. You always had so much fun riding me harder than necessary.’

‘Yeah, you little turd, of course I was. Not even the constant risk of death could make you a docile human being; somebody had to try to hammer some sense into that thick had of yours!’

‘I am the epitome of a docile and decent human being now,’ Cor smiled.

‘Right…’ Cid answered with heavy sarcasm. ‘Come on, let’s have a coffee and tell me how those other two dipshits are holding up.           

‘Would love to, but it will have to wait a bit. I have a date.’

‘A date, eh? I’ll see you later then.’ Cor only nodded in answer and went off.

‘Just the two of us, like in the good old days, eh old girl?’ Cid reminisced, grabbing his tools. ‘Let’s get to work then.’

 

The sun was already setting when Cor made his way to the diner. He went up the counter and ordered himself a coffee, idly looking over the place and the few patrons scattered around the boots. Most of them truckers it seemed. A lone guy sitting in a booth in the back stood out, despite his clothing being almost identical to the rest of the diners. He was somehow…more radiant, than your usual Lucian. Cor took his mug and walked over.

‘Hello! Are you waiting for someone?’

‘Just for the morning to come,’ the man answered, as Cor knew he would. If he did not know what to look for, Cor wouldn’t have noticed the very subtle slivers of the man’s original accent shine through. The marshal nodded and sat down, leaning at the table.

‘Her Majesty sends her regards,’ said the man, mimicking Cor’s posture. ‘Let’s keep this brief. What is our objective?’

‘Finding any lead on what the Empire is plotting. Their new infantry was a disturbing development enough, but now this whole business with the Crown Prince…Anything, that could help save him would be useful. One thing is sure, whatever the Chancellor did, he did not do it by his own powers. Whatever they used to… “curse” the prince, it was needed to be kept in a bottle. If it was any kind of magic, it had to have been altered by some…technology.’

Must have been. Nobody apart from the Lucis Caelums could use magic this advanced. But then how…

‘Understood. You were there, am I correct? At the ceremony?’

Cor nodded.

‘Excellent. If you could walk me through of what exactly happened…’ the man requested. So Cor did, listing all the small details of the accident that he carefully committed to memory. He knew it could prove useful. And in all honesty, it was an event he would not forget for some time still. His contact thanked him. Cor nodded and, his mission now concluded, stood to leave.

An idle thought made him hesitate and he sat back down.

‘Just one last question if you don’t mind.’ The man gestured at him to continue. ‘We all thought it would be safer for your people if you declined this request. Why are you helping us?’

‘Her Majesty has assessed the risks presented to her. This strongly under the thumb of our oppressors, she indeed deemed it a high risk game. But she also sees things for what they are, and she knows the dangers of the empire, should it roam free. The fear of doing nothing is greater in her, then a fear of death.’

 

Ten minutes later the marshal was back in the garage, sitting on his cot.

‘Date went well?’ Cid asked from somewhere under the Regalia.

‘Yes. It might even work out.’

Cor listened to Cid’s laugh and then the mechanic’s rant about something or other as he laid back on his makeshift bed, and slowly fell asleep to the rhythmic clanks coming from his right.

 

Gladio did not know how they happened to end up in this position, but he didn’t want to question anything. Ignis was lying under him, panting, cheeks peach-coloured, his glasses askew in a cute way. He carefully took it off the adviser and put it aside as Ignis, mimicking what he did on New Year’s, grabbed him by the neck, thumb caressing over the stubble on Gladio’s cheek and then he finally kissed him.

His lips were as soft as Gladio remembered, but it was nothing hesitant about this kiss. Ignis nipped at Gladio’s lips with fervour before licking them, then between them; hands eagerly holding onto the Shield’s nape, trying to bring him even closer, although Gladio doubted that could be possible.

He licked into Ignis’ mouth and the way the adviser instinctively sucked on his tongue, made his brain go into a meltdown. Oh, gods…

A firm thigh found its way between Gladio’s legs. That sweet friction made him buck into it. Ignis only smirked, planted his feet and started to undulate his hips. Gladio almost came on the spot just by imagining Ignis doing that move between the sheets, preferably naked and without Gladio on top. He really, really wanted to see that.

Ignis did not stop rolling his hips, Gladio meeting his every move. There were fingers in his hair, pulling him down once again, Ignis shedding every last ounce of shyness and going for an open mouthed kiss which quickly deteriorated into panting, both parties too focused on getting off.

Ignis looked absolutely divine this dishevelled, eyes glassy with passion, ruby-bitten lips parted, his hair mussed all up, a few beads running down his temple.

‘Ignis, gods, just–’ Gladio thrust down a bit more vehemently, his hips stuttering. ‘Ignis–‘

 

And then he woke up, panting, sweat cooling on his skin. Oh, and there was the matter of that raging hard on he had. From his wet dream. No biggie.     

He tried to get his breathing under control and thanked all his lucky stars that for a change, it was Ignis spooning him from behind and not Gladio sprawled all over him. He was a hundred percent sure, he would have come in his pants if he woke up from this kinda dream to actually being all over Ignis. That would have been all kinds of mortifying.

He extricated himself carefully from his lightly snoring co-parent and slipped into the dark bathroom. He shed his drenched clothes and it only took the fake-memory of Ignis sprawled under him and a few jerks under the warm embrace of the shower and Gladio was coming, a guttural sound ripping from his throat. He leaned on the cool tiles, trying to catch his breath.

            Astrals, was he _fucked_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope it was enjoyable! ＿( x| 」∠) ＿ /dies
> 
> Oh and hey, come see me on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) !


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gladio almost gets a heart attack, Ignis is a thieving menace and ready-to-assemble furniture is the work of some devil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to the gorgeous people who are still here and thanks for waiting! Long story short, shit happened, life sucks in general, but hopefully I'll be back to weekly updates, but I'd rather not promise anything.  
> In the meantime, enjoy this chapter that I finally finished!
> 
> P.S.: thanks to amiyade as usual for beta-reading, plus, for kicking me repeatedly towards my computer!

‘I’m quite certain that bit does not go in _there_!’

‘Well, where else should it go?’

‘Do I look like a– a carpenter? How would I know?’

‘Then how do you know it should _not_ go in there?’

‘I–! Fine, have it your way then. I do not know, are you happy?’

Ignis’ frustrated face should not be this enticing, Gladio thought.

‘You don’t have to know everything, Ignis,’ he smiled.

Ignis only huffed, sitting cross legged in that disaster zone that could not be called a nursery by any standards, eyes darting frantically between the instructions in his hand and the pieces on the floor. He took an indignant breath, then almost managed to take Gladio’s eye out as he waved the crumpled sheets of paper in his face.

‘This! This shouldn’t be this much trouble!’

‘And yet here we stand,’ Gladio conceded, scratching the top of his head. Ignis seemed to be on a roll. He continued.

‘What is wrong with furniture that is sold in _one_ piece?’ Ignis questioned the bits of the baby bed, or Gladio, or the universe in general. Gladio couldn’t really tell.

‘Well, for one I could not have brought it back from Lestallum on my chocobo,’ he answered, in case that was a legitimate question from his partner. Poor Daisy, she was not really a fan of that whole trip anyway, her back full of packages. She usually wasn’t even happy about Gladio. ‘And I don’t think I could have brought it up here assembled together either; those steps are way too narrow…’

Ignis stared at him yet again with that scrunched up face. Gladio’s fingers twitched as he wrestled with the urge to just– go up to him and squash his cheeks between his palms. He took up a dowel pin instead.

‘You being reasonable is only making this whole situation worse, I’d like to add,’ Ignis sighed, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. Gladio quickly averted his, because the sight of Ignis’ bared neck sent an instant jolt down his spine. The adviser wearing his borrowed grey Henley made it only worse.

Ifrit’s flaming balls, did he need to get laid! As soon as possible.

‘Come on!’ Gladio jumped up, grabbing Ignis by the hand and dragging him out of the nursery. ‘Coffee break; we need to air our heads out.’

Well, Gladio definitely needed to air _his_ head out, but not because of the uncooperative furniture. Ignis meekly agreed and wobbled down the stairs behind him. 

 

It took another two days to finish the baby bed of Evil and get the nursery to a level that was satisfactory to all parties concerned. Which of course meant, that furniture was pushed around and things relocated until _Ignis_ was satisfied. He even made Gladio switch around the curtains three times, because ‘ _that_ one made the nursery have a nicer atmosphere’. Kitchen-bedroom-nursery-living room-nursery-kitchen, back and forth, back and forth… Ignis was lucky Gladio was starting to get absolutely smitten with him.

Still, those two days were like a holiday, compared to the weeks they spent on repairing the roof beforehand. Wiz assisted them, as promised; he even brought helping hands from around. Thank the gods, apart from Ignis and himself, everybody knew what they were doing. Gladio even learned some things. Jared would be proud of him, he thought.

After everything got rain– and all manners of liquid-proof, they started on the upper rooms. There were no wild renovations, the roof-project leaving a sizeable denture in their wallet, but now both bedrooms were liveable. And clean. In a repeat-performance of last November, Ignis yet again aimed to murder Gladio with a well put-together to-do-list. If he heard: ‘it could use a bit of scrubbing still, don’t you think?’ once again this year, he would not be held responsible for his actions. Actions like flipping the kitchen table. Onto Ignis’ head, preferably.

Those outbursts never did last long; he could only keep his raging alive for as long as Ignis was out of sight. Gladio got all mushy whenever he looked at the adviser running about in Gladio’s old t-shirt. Ignis refused to buy a new one just to demolish it in this whole rebuilding adventure and told Gladio that he would ‘bloody well not work in a dress shirt’. So he stole Gladio’s old training shirt with a smirk, because that was a totally acceptable thing to do. If Ignis knew that Gladio spent the time scrubbing up Astrals-know-what from the floors imagining him in that t-shirt –and _only_ in that t-shirt–, the adviser would have probably gone and bought his own.

In hindsight he really should have skipped out on fantasizing while “on the job”. There were some very uncomfortable moments…

But now, after almost five months of one-room living the boys were laid to sleep in their own bed, in their own room. One down, one to go; their own bedroom’s full furnishing consisted of that glorious piece of mattress they have used ever since moving in.

Still, Gladio felt extremely accomplished.

Then around half past two in the morning he felt extremely foolish, as he first could not navigate through the door, then a second time when he trudged down the steps half-asleep only to realise halfway down that Noctis was actually crying his lungs out upstairs now.

Thankfully Ignis was dead asleep and did not witness that. Or so Gladio hoped.

Gladio tripped on the dusk-lit porch steps, almost spilling the groceries all over the forest floor. It was high time they invested into some industrial strength lights. There were barely any daemon sightings here, but better safe than sorry. It would also be nice not to break their necks when they tried to get home.

‘Ignis, I’m back!’ Gladio called, kicked-off boots flopping forgotten to the hall floor. Ignis berated him for leaving his shoes and or jacket around on multiple accounts. It wasn’t Gladio’s fault that his hands were usually full with stuff when he got back. It was also not Gladio’s fault, that Ignis always put them away by the time Gladio set down his stupid bags or whatever he happened to carry. ’They did not have that tinned chocobean that you wanted-’

Gladio stopped. Everything was silent, suspiciously so.

‘Ignis?’ There was no answer, but he could hear Noctis’ babble from the dark kitchen. ‘What the shit…’ Gladio barged into the kitchen, hand slamming on the switch.

‘Surprise!’

‘Bbbaaa!’

Gladio took in the scene, curtains closed, Ignis standing next to a well packed table, Noctis in his arms. Gladio could make out some side dishes and a small, but neat selection of meats. There was a cake.

‘Happy birthday, Gladio!’

‘Shiva’s tits, Ignis! I’ve almost got a heart attack.’

Well, the initial feeling of a heart failure quickly dissipated along with the imagined scenarios in Gladio’s head featuring an unconscious Ignis on the kitchen floor, life slowly slipping from his body. Everybody was fine; it was all fine. Still, Gladio felt his chest constrict from all this kindness and thoughtfulness aimed at him; fingers twitching to reach out and hold, hold, hold… 

‘Oh come now, a little startle never killed anyone. Here,’ he passed Noctis over and took a few dishes back to the stove. ’I need to reheat some of these.’

‘Princess, you are a traitor,’ Gladio announced, lifting the baby up over his head, swinging him delicately to the joy of Noctis, then swooped him down into a careful hug. ‘You were in on this, right? Well, you just wait till August.’ Noctis happily blubbered at him as he was put in the travel cot. Gladio petted Prompto’s out-of-hand locks. ‘See, Prompto is a good boy. He did not try to scare me to death. But now I have some food to destroy; so stay here and behave yourself.’

                 

Ignis really outdid himself. There were some amazing, thick and juicy ham slices on toast with a light salad and the adviser even made two types of skewers. One Gladio was familiar with; the small cubes of anak meat in a glaze made his mouth water. His heart swelled a bit at the actuality of Ignis remembering one of his favourite foods, but then realised it was more of an Ignis-thing than an Ignis-having-a-thing-for-Gladio-thing.

Gladio found himself enjoying Ignis’ journey into cooking immensely. How he got more and more comfortable in the kitchen. How he tried out every recipe he could get his hands on, sometimes he even tried to concoct his own. Gladio liked observing as he practiced with his knifes, not that the affinity wasn’t there already. Although the best thing about this whole learning process was that Ignis always loved a second opinion on the delicacies he made and Gladio always obliged. Only an idiot would pass up on free food. Not free-free, because Gladio did his fair share of the chores, but cooking was not his forte. Cup noodles, he could do. What Ignis was doing day-by-day? No fricking way. Cleaning shit and getting the groceries was super fine with him.

 

Gladio focused back to the now; they arrived at the best part: the cake! To be exact, the cake with eighteen candles and icing and everything. Homemade, of course, just like the rest of the dinner. A bit wonky maybe, the buttercream a bit sweet, but Ignis put his everything into that cake and Gladio loved every bit of it.

‘When exactly did you find the time to do all this?’ Gladio asked leaning back in the chair, belly full. He would have to squeeze an extra hour of work out into his day, that’s for sure.

‘Ah, you know; here and there. It was not that much of a trouble.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Gladio huffed with a happy grin.

‘I’m sure back in Insomnia you would have had a much more glorious celebration.’

At this moment, Gladio felt like if given the option, he would still choose this. He would choose spending a quiet evening with Ignis who apparently _cared,_ over some fancy-schmancy banquet organised in his honour. That thought was just so entirely frightening, that he did not dare voice it.

‘I don’t care,’ he said instead, plunging one finger into some icing and licking it off. He might need to get his eyes checked, because for a moment he thought he saw Ignis blush. ‘I think this is the most thoughtful birthday party anyone ever arranged for me, so…thank you, Ignis!’

‘You are welcome. Oh, wait a second,’ he said and took something from the drawer. Gladio stood up to be face to face with Ignis as a colourful envelope was pushed into his hands.

‘Happy Birthday, Gladio.’

‘What is this?’

‘Just open it.’

He did.

‘Ignis, what the– Ifrit’s shitting balls! Ignis, this costs like– like–‘

‘Language! And this is not as pricey as it was back in the Crown City, believe me. Thankfully, Wiz had some paperwork that needed to be done in his stead, so you do not have to worry about our budget either. I’ve reviewed some available tattoo artists in our vicinity and this one was highly recommended. Not that there is a plenitude of them out here…’

So typical of Ignis; of course he made a whole investigation just for one single birthday gift.

‘Fuck, Ignis this is–’ however Gladio wanted to finish the sentence, it turned into a frustrated groan, hand coming up to ruffle the hair at his nape. Ignis looked at him confused.

‘I thought you would have liked to see your family tattoo finished, and I assure you I choose the best–‘

Gladio needed to do something. Do something about his mounting frustration, do something about Ignis deflating; something to show how much he appreciated all Ignis did for him. So he locked the adviser into a bear hug and planted a wet and loud kiss on his cheek, before burying his face in Ignis’ neck.

‘I know you did. Thank you, thank you, thank you,’ he murmured in an unending litany until Ignis finally put his hands around Gladio’s back.

‘You are welcome.’

 

‘Gladiolus?’

Gladio sighed and flopped off the couch, his book forgotten on the cushions as he went over to Ignis.

‘What, pray tell, is that on the wall…?’ Ignis asked as soon as Gladio stepped foot into the kitchen. Gladio looked at Ignis, as if he has gone mad.

‘Ah, just a… calendar? I got it for two gil!’

‘Whatever for?’

‘No special reason,’ Gladio hesitated. ‘Just… to write stuff in it? Holidays, birthdays, things like that. You do know how calendars work, right?’

When Ignis looked at him as if he were the biggest idiot on the whole of Eos, he grabbed a pen from the drawer and turned the calendar to August. He put down Noctis’ birthday. Then he returned to April and jotted down his own birth date. Then marked holidays like the Grim Reaper Day and Glacian Eve, highlighting the small print with lines circling around the letters like a very deformed drawing of a sun.

If they could have an Amicitia family calendar back home, they can have one in their new home as well. End of story and Ignis can stuff it, he thought, petulantly flipping the pages.

‘So, help me out, when are we celebrating Prompto?’

‘25th of October, Gladio,’ Ignis answered observing the Shield’s every move as he dotted it down.

‘Okay, good, done,’ he said pointing his pen at the adviser. ‘And when’s yours gonna be?’

‘7th of February,’ Ignis muttered.

‘Okay– WHAT? That was months ago, why did you not tell me?’

‘It was not the most important at that time.’

‘Say what?’ Gladio squished Ignis’ cheeks between his palms, fingers cradling his head firmly. ‘Okay, let’s make one thing clear, this shit is not gonna fly with me, alright? Everybody’s birthdays are important. You thought mine was.’

‘Of course it was. Mine just happened to be at an unfortunate date. To be perfectly honest, I only realised a few days later,’ Ignis confessed. ‘And might I remind you that you did buy me a coffee machine for Glacian Eve, thus, I think we are even.’

‘…Okay, you get a pass,’ Gladio said, hands somehow stuck in their position on the adviser’s face. ‘But next year, there will be cakes and candles and presents and all that junk, deal?’

‘Deal,’ Ignis agreed after some thinking and a sigh. There was a definite blush on his cheeks as he softly pried Gladio’s fingers from his face. ‘Tell me only one thing.’

Gladio cocked his head, awaiting the question.

‘Why moogles?’

A harsh laugh bubbled up Gladio’s throat.

‘Just concentrate on the nice Lestallum views in the background,’ he chuckled, putting the calendar back on the wall. ‘Next year, you choose.’

‘That goes without saying,’ Ignis agreed.

 

The Lestallum air was heavy with steam; the smells of the market stalls and bars and abandoned bins intertwining in the stifling night air. One would think the temperature would drop from the usual scorching heat of daytime, but the Cauthess was too close and the power plant never slept, so the nights were just as humid and sweat-inducing as the days. Gladio wanted to claw off his stupid sleeveless shirt, it was that bad. And it wasn’t even summer yet…

He walked through the lively alleys, sidestepping trash bags and gradually more and more drunk people as he closed in on the plaza. All pubs and bars were full of tourists having a slice of the famous Lestallum night life and the daytime shift of EXENERIS ladies having a bit of downtime after a hard day of work.

Musicians played on every corner; their notes mixing into a cacophony if you stood in the wrong place. Gladio could not really care either for the stomach-growl inducing smells coming from the skewer stand, nor the cheery sounds of the acoustic guitars. His tender skin was begging for some form of relief and to be honest, he was tired. The huge post advertising an ice cold bottle of Uncle Randell Root Beer still made him stop, not realising how parched he was up until that point.

Maybe he could just pop in one of the bars and get one? Buy one for Ignis as well on the way back to the Leville. Or maybe he should just hurry the fuck up and go back to Ignis and the boys. He left his partner on his own long enough.

But the thrill of finally being out and about, and the chance for at least some form of socialising was more and more tempting, sore skin or not. A short-lived thought of hooking up with someone flitted through his brain, then died.

He sauntered into the bar nearest to the hotel. The Y.U.K. had a more local, and less touristy vibe. Power plant workers chatting around the round tables outside with their fruity cocktails, guys one-upping each other with their other halves’ achievements, sipping their foamy beers. Gladio even spotted a smallish group of hunters on his way to the bar. The stocky barman informed him that they were fresh out of root beer, so Gladio decided to go for a regular one instead.

The ice cool and slightly bitter drink felt like a gift from the gods. He settled in, elbows at the bar, eyes sweeping over the other patrons. Some upbeat, but enjoyable music came from the speakers, giving a nice background noise while the people still had a chance to chat. Gladio sipped at his beer, his eyes getting stuck on a young man milling around not too far away from the bar. Gladio could make out his fine profile, the soft brown shortcut hair. His slightly baggy summer clothes made a bad job of hiding his lean frame. The smile that broke out on the guy’s face almost made Gladio go over there and try his luck, but as soon as his muscles twitched into motion a twinge in his chest rendered him immobile. Going for somebody resembling Ignis even slightly was a very, very bad idea.

So he stayed put and settled in to just look and finish drinking his beer. There was a solid plan; drink the beer, get something for Ignis, get back to the Leville and change some diapers. Or heat up some bottles, one could never know.

The second he made up his mind giggling hit his ears from the left, a few ladies among the hunters looking at him. One of them swigged her pint back and strolled over to the Shield.

‘Nice tattoo you have got going there,’ she offered.

‘Thanks,’ Gladio put on his best smile. ‘It will take a few more sessions, but it will be worth it.’

‘So, you came up here just to get inked?’ Gladio looked at the hunter sceptically. The woman continued: ‘Sorry, honey, but you are so obviously not from round here. I would remember a cute face like yours.’

‘Well, you’ve got me there,’ he answered, a proper follow up eluding him. He might have blushed. ’Can I buy you a beer? Or anything else…?’

‘Yeah, beer’s good,’ she accepted, turning the both of them back to the bar and signalling for a refill before Gladio could.

He felt just like in the Crown City. He was in his element, having an easy talk about this and that, flirting while demolishing yet another glass of beer. They even went dancing for a song or two. It was obvious from the way Trish (as she introduced herself) was moving against him that she wouldn't mind continuing this elsewhere.

 

And that’s when Gladio’s phone rang. And he knew very well who it was, so he excused himself with an apologetic smile and took the call outside.

‘Gladio, where are you, is everything all right?’

‘I... yes,’ he started but Ignis has cut in.

‘Are you in a bar?!’

Gladio considered lying for a millisecond, but that would have been a new low.

‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I popped in to buy us something cold and met a lady and…’

The silence from the other end of the line felt so crippling even in the Y.U.K.’s noisy atmosphere that Gladio just stopped explaining himself. ‘Ignis, are you still there?’

A sigh. Then a pause.

‘Yes, yes... I’m-’ Ignis started, but Gladio never knew what the adviser actually wanted to say, for he quickly changed course. ‘Enjoy your evening, Gladiolus.’

There was a faint click and then all Gladio could hear was beeping, slowly merging into the next song on the speakers. Trish met him by the doors.

‘What's with the face, everything's alright?’

‘Yes, just my- ahm, it was my room...mate…’Gladio finally answered. He must have said something wrong, because Trish stepped up close to him and not in the fun way.

‘Honey, if you plan on cheating on your “roommate” with me, then think again,’ the hunter said and Gladio felt the very real possibility of getting a right hook in the face, if he didn’t choose his next words very carefully.

‘No, no, no– There is nothing to cheat on, we are not– there is nothing–’ Gladio stuttered. Well, this was going well…

‘Ah,’ she said her face turning from murderous into sympathetic in a blink, maybe seeing something in Gladio’s quickly falling expression. She patted his face. ‘Unrequited love is a bitch. Been there. Another beer? My treat.’

Gladio did not even want to correct her, (not that she was entirely wrong). He just nodded and let the hunter link arms with him and steer them back into the pub. Maybe the night would still be all right.

 

The night, well, it was more than alright. They had one more beer, chatting idly. Gladio, like a gentleman, accompanied her back to her room. Trish invited him in. Gladio packed up all his thoughts of Ignis and that stupid phone call and that aching feeling in his chest, and left it at the hunter’s doorstep, shutting down everything but his base instincts. They did not waste much time getting to the point once the door closed.

 

Everybody had been asleep when he got back to their room in the Leville. Ignis hummed in acknowledgement when Gladio finally went to their shared bed after a shower. He had no real life experience, still he could not help but feel like some cheating spouse, slinking back in the dark of the night to his unsuspecting partner after a tryst. He never felt more horrible in his whole life.

Thank the Astrals sleep claimed him in mere minutes.

 

Ignis did not behave too differently after that night, but Gladio could feel something was off. He refrained from accompanying him to Lestallum on his next appointment, his reason being sparing expenses. Gladio couldn't shake the feeling that it was deeper a problem than being short on money, but did not want to confront Ignis about it. He hoped it would just... tide over.

Ignis did not go with him the following times either.

So Gladio refrained from mentioning any of his other conquests. He was not sure why. Maybe because Ignis did not seem the type to be interested in talking about these kind of things. Maybe because that one phone call still haunted him. The phantom pangs of a cheater’s conscience plagued him, but there really was no reason for that, was now? They were not actually married and crush or not, Gladio had itches that needed to be scratched.

Maybe Ignis had them too, but as Gladio saw it, doing his duty to the Crown would always come first to him. Other basic human needs were secondary.

Well, Gladio had one more appointment left, and Astrals be damned if he passed up on his last chance to get laid.

 

‘Ignis! Do you have a moment?’ Gladio’s voice came from somewhere.

‘I’m in the kitchen!’ Ignis called out and kept on breading the cutlets, waiting either for a reply or for Gladio to come to him. No way he was going to wash his hands and start getting mushed up in eggs and breadcrumbs again. It did not sound that urgent. The Shield finally popped his head through the arch with a smile that made clear he wanted something.

‘What is it Gladio?’ Ignis sighed.

‘I need some help with my back, if it's okay,’ he said waving the salve around.

‘Just a moment. I have to finish this,’ Ignis answered turning back to the kitchen counter.

‘Yeah, I can wait,’ Gladio agreed, spinning a chair around and straddling it. He waited patiently, arms crossed over the backrest, drumming idle rhythms onto the table top while Ignis finished up the preparations. He made quick work of his t-shirt as Ignis stepped up to him.

‘Just put a bit of that shit on it,’ he said handing Ignis the cream.

‘Very well,’ Ignis answered, unable to help the eye roll at Gladio’s phrasing and set to work, lathering his fingers and applying it to the newest parts of the design etched into the Shield’s skin. ‘Is the upcoming appointment your last?’

Gladio hummed in agreement. It sounded a bit more like a moan than a hum, to be fair. Ignis’ hands strayed a bit from the tattoo, fingers running about the muscles. That alone made his heart beat double-time, and the appreciative moan - now _that_ definitely was a moan, no mistake– that left Gladio’s lips only made it worse, so Ignis reeled himself in and got back to the task at hand.

‘Is it bothering you?’ Gladio asked out of the blue. Ignis knew very well what the Shield insinuated, still, he couldn’t help and try to avoid the topic all together.

Did it bother him that whenever Gladio disappeared to Lestallum, he most definitely had a one-night stand? Yes.

Was he entitled to be bothered by Gladio having a (hopefully) good time with other people? Definitely not.

There was nothing between them apart from their shared duty and friendship. It was only Ignis’ stupid crush, acting up and making him have contradictory feelings. Gods, how he hated this whole situation!

‘Depends. What do you mean by “it” exactly?’

Gladio did not seem to buy it, going by that sigh that left his lips, but apparently he decided to play along with this charade.

‘Does it bother you that I spend my evenings in Lestallum with… people?’

Ignis raked his brain for an answer that would count as adequate in this situation without sounding strained. It was a bit hard to think, with all the blood suddenly colouring his cheeks. He felt like any other parts of his body were devoid of it. He was not very used to conversing about …matters such as this.

‘Gladiolus, I’m not your keeper and you are entitled to your– ahm, needs. As long as it does not interfere with our task here, I could not care less,’ Ignis answered, thanking all the gods that Gladio could not see his bright red face now. Even more glad, that he could not call him out for the liar he was. If the Shield knew…

‘Yeah, okay. Thanks,’ he murmured. After a bit of pause, he laughed. ‘Hey, Ignis. I don’t think I have a tattoo there.’

Ignis noticed that his hands strayed quite far away from his intended target, and were massaging somewhere around his lower back. He yanked them back as fast as if Gladio’s skin has burnt him.

‘I’m so sorry, I was not paying attention…’

‘Nah, it felt good. If you ever have some free time on your hands…’ he left off and imitated massaging motions into the air.

‘Well, for an appropriate service in exchange, I might consider it,’ Ignis smirked. It might kill Ignis in the end if he had to touch Gladio’s sculpted back and who knows what else for more than five minutes, but what a way it would be to go.

‘I could always return the favour; you look like you could do with some relaxing,’ Gladio grinned, standing up.

‘Do I, now?’

‘Yup. You certainly do.’

Ignis arched a brow as he was gently pushed down on the chair, Gladio taking up position behind him. Ignis was glad for the shirt he wore, masking the fact that his skin broke out in goose bumps as soon as the Shield’s fingers touched him.

‘Always taking care of us all, always planning, always on guard. It’s like you are on duty 24/7. You need some time out, if you ask me,’ Gladio replied, digging his fingers in the stiff muscles of his shoulders. Ignis almost let out a very embarrassing moan. It felt like heaven; he was not aware how desperate his body was for any kind of human interaction. Or maybe it was desperate for Gladio’s touch. Either way, Ignis was not fond of that feeling.

‘And what do you propose I do with my “time out”,’ he asked back, tone a tad more suggestive than he intended. Gladio’s grip tightened minutely.

‘Go out? Have some fun? Get a date, I don’t know!?’

‘A date? Don’t be ridiculous, Gladio,’ Ignis scoffed, but still leaned his head a bit to the right when Gladio moved his ministrations to his neck. ‘What would I say, “Oh, don’t mind my husband and the two children”?’

Gladio’s hand slipped.

‘It doesn’t have to be anything serious.’

‘I do not fancy one-night stands, Gladio, but thank you for your concern.’

‘…Okay,’ Gladio said, ending this discussion. The lovely massage continued for some time yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, see you next week, hopefully! .+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ 
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) if you wanna!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis has a revelation, Gladio has just the worst ideas and there is a birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyahhh, thank you for all the lovely comments last week! ♥♥♥ You are the best!  
> Nothing's really much changed here, but b*tch, did I just finish another chapter?!  
> Of course the boys did not want to go the way I so carefully mapped out and mucked up two perfectly -hnnnng- cliffhangers, but I guess we are going with ending #3 then, and see where it takes us...  
> Have fun!

Gladio came back one August morning, tattoo finished. Ignis did not know what sort of behaviour he was expecting once the artwork on the Shield’s skin was done, but silent resignation wasn’t on his list.

Gladio instantly took the crying Prompto off of Ignis’ hand, plunging himself head first into baby care, trying to be his usual self. Trying and failing. His smile did not look as honest as the Shield probably hoped it to be as he talked in a soft voice to the baby; his thoughts apparently miles away when he fed him.

As both their charges lay in the cot, clean and fed, napping away happily, Ignis tried to delicately inquire about his trip. The only answer he got was that it ‘was fine’, then Gladio excused himself and locked the bathroom door.

The adviser chose to make a tactical retreat.

  

Ignis lay in bed, eyes scrunched closed, sleep cycle rudely disrupted by crying. Sometimes it still happened, although the boys tended to sleep through most nights by now. He lazily felt around the bed with one hand, but Gladio’s side of the sheets were cold. Ignis really hoped he was in the boys’ room, dealing with the situation as he tried to shake off the drowsiness, if only enough to get up.

A minute later Prompto was still crying. Ignis marvelled about the fact that he actually could differentiate his charges only by their wailing even half asleep, then got up and wandered sluggishly their room.

The Shield was not there, so Ignis hugged Prompto to his chest, muttering some old lullaby he barely had any memory of, while occasionally caressing Noctis’ little head in the softest manner possible in the hope that the combined power of his touch and voice would lull the boys back to sleep.

Half an hour later he finally tiptoed down the stairs, alibi ready at hand, would Gladio be there and awake. The full darkness he blindly waded through in the living room indicated otherwise. He finally reached the small counter lamp in the kitchen and peeked back into the living room by the barely-there-light it gave.

Gladio was fast asleep on the couch, blanket haphazardly thrown over his midriff. Ignis felt his heart sink. He would have to be an idiot not to notice that Gladio was not his touchy-feely self ever since he came back from Lestallum. He was always to one to initiate contact, to put a reassuring hand on Ignis’ shoulder, to give him a congratulatory slap on the back, when the adviser managed to come up with a new recipe. Now, it was all deflection; the dynamic change and silence between them stifling.

Ignis was not sure, if it was something he did, or if something has happened to the Shield on his last trip. Both alternatives were equally terrifying.

He knew very well, that nothing could come of his misguided crush, but Gladio’s friendship was a precious and unexpected addition in his life. He could not bear the thought of losing it.

The cup of tea he intended to use as an excuse for his coming down in the middle of the night seemed more and more an appealing prospect. Something warm and mild to sooth his suddenly frayed nerves just enough to get at least another few hours of sleep.

Gladio’s gasp made him stop instantly as he stepped out of the kitchen with his steaming mug. He abandoned it to shake the Shield’s shoulders lightly, murmuring at him in his soft baritone.

‘Gladio, wake up! It’s all right.’

The Shield did, one hand shooting up like a hungry snake, fingers in a vice around Ignis’ wrist bones.

‘Gladio!’

His eyes were wild with whatever disturbing nightmare he had. He let go of Ignis, almost tossing his hand away in disgust. Ignis winced away, more from the emotional impact, then Gladio’s actions and sat back on his heels beside the couch.

‘Sorry…’

‘It’s– quite all right.’

It was not.

‘Gladio, wha–’ was all Ignis got out before Gladio’s groan made the words stutter in his throat.

‘Gods, can we not talk about this in the middle of the night?’

‘Well, definitely not the most optimal timing choice, I admit, but–‘

‘Could I just go back to sleep? Please?’

It came out gritty and full of badly repressed anger. Ignis experienced first-hand in those godawful first few days how Gladio behaved when he was worked-up. This? This was something else, it was like trying to attend to a wounded animal. Ignis weighed his options but neither stepping down nor coddling Gladio seemed to be the right direction. So he stood his ground, shifting onto his knees to get into Gladio’s line of vision.

‘No. There will never be a right time, and since you are awake, you can just tell me what the problem is. It has been going on long enough, and while I do not intend to pain you any further, I simply cannot bear this anymore. If I did something wrong, or you are merely tired of our friendship, then you could just say so,’ he rushed it out, barely taking the time to breath, afraid that if he stopped, he would not get out what he wanted to say.

‘What…?’ Gladio gaped at him.

‘Give me the courtesy of not playing dumb with me, please.’

‘No, that’s not– Ignis, I’m not mad at you, or tired of our friendship, I just– I just–’ but the finishing words never came and Gladio averted his eyes. Ignis felt his stomach drop like a ton of lead, as the second version of his theories became more and more likely.

‘Gladio, did–’ oh, Astrals, how to put this delicately? ‘Did someone hurt you?’

‘WHAT?’ Ignis reared back at the sudden surge in the Shields voice. Gladio let out a nervous laugh, as he sat up, hands tentatively reaching out for Ignis’. ‘Whatever gave you the idea?’

Ignis felt very foolish.

‘Well, you haven’t been your lively self ever since you came home from Lestallum, and you never told me how things went. You avoided touching me like the plague…’ he muttered. ‘And now you are sleeping on the couch. If it is not me, then I thought… someone…’

‘Gods, I– Come here!’ He wrapped Ignis in his arms, and although the embrace was nothing like the ones they usually had, definitely not as long, but it was a start. ‘You did nothing wrong and nothing happened to me in Lestallum. I’m just… I have to think about some stuff, you know? Sort it out?’ he said, tapping his temple. Ignis shot him an unsure smile.

‘I did not want to stress you out with this, I’m sorry,’ Gladio admitted, smiling back at him. It seemed tired and small. ‘Give me a few days?’

‘Take all the time you need. And if you are in need of an ear to talk to…’ Ignis left the offer hanging in the air, draping the blanket over the Shield and grabbed his mug. ‘Good night, Gladio!’

The softly uttered ‘good night’ in response followed him up the stairs.

 

Gladio lay on the sofa after Ignis left, sleepless. It seemed like he had some gods forsaken talent for making the anyways stupid situations he got in even worse. It was also possible that he should just take a page out of Ignis’ book and concentrate on his duty, because thinking with his dick was really not working out.

He was correct in thinking that sleeping with the cute brunette would be a terrible idea the first time he saw him in the Y.U.K. But then, he bumped into him on the way to the Leville. The guy’s smile was blinding and his cute dimples only needed two milliseconds to send a jolt down Gladio’s spine. From there on, he was basically lost. Some stupid little voice kept repeating junk in his head until they somehow stumbled back together to the hotel, kissing like crazy in every dark nook (which the alleyway had more than plenty of).

‘This is no coincidence! It must be fate! Who knows when you’ll get away from that hut next time? Look at that cute face! Can you feel that silky smooth skin under your fingers? Do it, do it, do it!’ his brain whispered, so he did it.

Oh boy, how he regretted it now…

The guy was a good kisser and he must have really liked what he saw when he peeled Gladio out of his trousers and underwear, because he went to town on his dick the moment his clothes hit the floor. Gladio lost all his brain functions for a minute there.

He also liked to talk apparently when his mouth was not full. He told Gladio how he enjoyed sucking him off and how much more he would enjoy if Gladio were to press him into the mattress with those strong hands of his and ram his cock up his ass. Preferably sooner than later. So after some fumbling preparation and a slight panic when he could not fish the condom out of his wallet, Gladio did exactly just that.

His bedpartner’s moans were absolutely criminal, and so, very efficient in preventing Gladio’s brain from popping up mental images of Ignis. The adviser never-ever would make animalistic noises like these. But as they got more and more lost in chasing their own releases, Gladio lost all control as well, and not even the un-Ignis-like sounds could stop his mind from blaring ‘Ignis! Ignis! Ignis! Ignis!’ in a constant loop of want. Or rather wishful thinking. Because this man under him was not Ignis, and never would be.

But before he almost shouted the wrong name at the wrong time, in the wrong bed, he leaned down and kissed his bedpartner with fervour as he came. Gladio kept on kissing him as he jerked him off, the guy giving off a guttural sound of satisfaction before going limp under Gladio.

He fell asleep while Gladio took a shower. By the time the sun rose over the rooftops of the colourful houses in Lestallum, he was already on his way back home.

Now he felt like a major idiot, hoping, that if he just kept his distance with Ignis, he would get over that weird sexual experience and the fact that he was so done, when it came to the adviser. But by taking a 180 degree turn on his usual approach, all he achieved was making Ignis worried, while going nowhere with his own problems.

He was sure that in a few days all would be well and back to the usual flow of things.

It was an accident in all honesty that Gladio saw the flyer being pinned up on the info-board at the mini-mart. He could barely see from the groceries in his arms where he was even going. It was nothing much, an ordinary piece of paper with the text “WANTED for habitat destruction” and a picture of a sabertusk on it. Or was it a voretooth?

‘Are you interested?’

‘Wha-?’ Gladio gaped at the hunter still standing by the board. ‘Ah, yeah, maybe…’

‘Maybe? Dude, you look like you can hold your own; have you ever been on a hunt?’

‘Not really, but I know my way around a greatsword…maybe that could be useful, I don’t know…’

‘Well, if you ever feel the urge to do something nice for the community and you made up your mind, feel free to pop down to any of the hunter HQs. Somebody will show you the ropes, I’m sure,’ the hunter said as he left the shop, flinging a two fingered salute at Gladio.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Gladio nodded.

The prospect didn’t sound half as bad; he was sure he could take out a few whatever-tooths. Plus, there was a chance the extra thrill would take his mind off of trying to climb his partner like a tree…

Now he just had to run it past Ignis.

‘Absolutely not!’

‘Excuse me?!’ Gladio spluttered, hands full of grocery bags, fresh back from the mini-mart.

‘How can you even–?’ Ignis put the piece of garden furniture down and stood. He spent good half an hour on putting together the scrapped outdoor table, courtesy of the Forlanes. He did not know why they gave it away, the furniture had a good few years in it still, and the bright chocobo yellow umbrella was still usable. ‘Hunting? Gladio, this suggestion is beyond childish and unbelievably irresponsible!’

‘Why? We could use the extra money and I could use the extra training. Won’t be much good of a Shield if I’m sitting here on my ass all day, changing diapers and pureeing baby food.’

‘First of all, you do keep up with your training, so that point is invalid. If you so want to get some extra work out, you could just–’, not do anything stupid and die, Ignis thought ‘–give self-defence lessons to the locals maybe? And second, we are not that desperate for cash that you should risk your life!’

‘I’m not risking shit, this hunt is easy,’ Gladio countered, his fingers twitching as he held the bags, probably itching to cross his arms in defence.

‘How would you know?! Why do you need to put yourself in unnecessary danger? The prince has no use for a dead Shield!’ Ignis accused, almost getting up in his face. ‘And what about me, do you honestly expect me to sit at home with the kids and wait for your return with a freshly cooked meal?’

‘Oh, I didn’t know it was such a bother cooking for me!’ the Shield scoffed. ‘I just need to get out of here sometimes and do something; I am not doing this to– to demote you to a housewife or whatever…’

‘Well, you better not, because I’m nobody’s bloody wife, and certainly not yours!’

‘You know what?! Just– whatever, forget I even mentioned this whole shit,’ Gladio surrendered, flinging his arms in the air, then stopping as he remembered they were full of groceries and stomped inside. Ignis could feel the vibrations of the front door slamming shut in his marrow.

Well, that went bloody well.

August was still raging outside, bringing unusual waves of heat to the otherwise soggy forest. Noctis and Prompto mucked about on a baby blanket on the kitchen floor with the few toys they had. Well, for now…

Ignis tried his best to keep an eye on the bubbling pot on the stove. His thoughts flitted about the upcoming birthday, and what they could do to celebrate the prince’s first anniversary. Of course, he could not really come to any conclusion, as he inadvertently always twisted back to the silent treatment situation they had going on with Gladio. It was wearing the both of them down, but Shiva damn him, if he offered up talking about it. He had to be the mature one last time as well, and although he could see that the boys were feeling the tension too, he would not break this time.

Gladio made the mess, he should have the guts to sort it out. Going out hunting, what was he even thinking?

Ignis could not even bear thinking about it, so he stood there simmering quietly along their dinner, occasionally going over to the boys for a little play and a few soothing words and hugs.

But now? Now he was rooted to the spot, curry and charges all forgotten as his eyes seemed to be glued to Gladio training their “garden” just outside the kitchen window in all his half-naked glory. Well, garden was a harsh word to use for that fairly sizeable patch of grass in front of their home, but he couldn’t be bothered to refer to it in a roundabout way. Gladio finished warming up and picked up his sword.

Ignis gulped.

He really should just step away and stop ogling his partner. It was an indecent thing to do. It was not helping his feelings either, gazing at those delectable back muscles, glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the hot rays of the sun.

If he let his mind truly wander, he could just imagine how individual droplets would make their way through the miniscule valleys of Gladio’s trained muscles. He could imagine what it would feel like to have all that under him on their old mattress, fingers and tongue mapping every single dip and rise.

He could imagine the Shields face contorted in pleasure. He still remembered the small moans he made when Ignis massaged him months ago.

He watched on in fascination as Gladio did his usual routine, face stuck in an expression of determined concentration instead of bliss, and it still made Ignis heart beat double time.

He wanted Gladio to come inside and talk things out, he wanted to go back to the friendship that was slowly, but surely developing between them. He wanted to bicker about insignificant things with the Shield while they drank their morning coffee. He wanted to be able to freely touch him, he wanted to kiss the frown off his stupidly attractive face. He wanted to wake up in the morning and not feel that devastating pang, because he knew the only reason he opened his eyes to being in Gladio’s arms was that the Shield had a weird sleeping habit and not because he couldn’t keep his hands off of Ignis.

‘Oh, gods…’

He would never ever tell Gladio these things, but he thought it was time he did right by himself at least, and confessed to himself that he was utterly and irrevocably in love with the Shield.

Of course, it did not help his situation at all, but somehow he felt his heart become a bit lighter at the admission.

Now he only needed to wait for it to pass.

The Astrals did not intend to make his life any easier Ignis thought as he lay awake in bed one morning, eyes wide, body frozen in surprise.

Given that the both of them were young males, the phenomenon of “morning wood”, as Gladio liked to call it, was not a rare occurrence. It was a natural thing that just happened, and somehow they were adult enough to get over it when some mornings a bit of accidental touching transpired.

Ignis never paid any mind to that, but he sure as hell was paying all his attention to the happening at that very moment.

The happening, which consisted of one adviser, lying as frozen as an anak stag in the headlights, and one Shield to the future King, grinding his waking erection slowly into said adviser’s backside.

‘Gladio…’ Ignis tried, his voice cracking as heat flooded his insides. There was no reaction to the barely uttered call. Going by the pattern of his breathing, the Shield must have been asleep. Well, he wouldn’t be rutting against him, if he were awake, Ignis dejectedly reminded himself. He tried to slip out of bed, only for Gladio’s arm to strengthen its hold around his midriff.

‘Gladio. Gladio!’ he called again, pinching the Shield’s forearm. Gladio hummed, turning his face fully into Ignis’ neck and rolled his hips more consciously.

Then, everything stilled.

No one dared to move or speak. Ignis could feel Gladio’s eyelashes on his skin flutter rapidly, as the Shield no doubt tried to process the situation. He could feel Gladio’s Adam’s apple move, before he cleared his throat, spluttered out a ‘Sorry!’ and dashed from the bed and the room. Ignis stayed there, perplexed, as the sounds of Gladio’s hurried footsteps faded and the unique, creaky sound of the bathroom door shutting filtered up the stairs, followed by shower starting.

Ignis rolled over and growled into his pillow, all too aware now of his own erection. All right, turning onto his belly was a bad idea. He languidly pushed his hips into the bedding, the soft touch of the cotton of his boxers sending a violent shiver up his spine. He shouldn’t indulge himself, especially not now, when everything that was Gladio still lingered this close to his skin. He could still feel his heat at his back and his smell clinging to the t-shirt he slept in.

He couldn’t stop his hips from repeatedly pushing into the mattress, down, down, just to get some friction. He clutched at his pillow as his mind wandered, imagining scenarios that surely must have happened in some alternate universe.

Because in that timeline, Gladio stayed and instead of muttering sorry, he just pushed his face further into Ignis’ neck, nipping at the skin and taking a lungful of his scent. That Gladio moaned in his ear as Ignis pushed his ass back and they found a rhythm. That Ignis would have moaned in answer, as Gladio eventually pushed him down face first into the mattress, pushing the t-shirt up on the adviser’s back and peppering it with kisses before pulling Ignis’ boxers off, just a bit, the elastic lying just under his round buttocks.

That alternate Gladio would lay back down over him, sneaking one hand between Ignis’ chest and the bed as he ground down again and again at a punishing pace, his cock sliding between the adviser’s naked cheeks. He would tell him how much he wanted to take Ignis, right here, right now, but couldn’t control himself, couldn’t find the patience in himself, because Ignis made him lose all his discipline and common sense.

He would tell Ignis how close he was, how he needed Ignis to come first for him, how he wanted to listen to a moan get stuck in his throat as he came.

Ignis imagined this other Gladio freeze mid-whisper, his recital of the things he wanted to do to Ignis turning into a keening noise as he came, pushing the man under him harshly into the bedding with his weight. And as Ignis imagined his seed spilling over his skin, he came with a surprised gasp.  

Into his boxer shorts, like some worked up lovesick teenager.

Then realised that in fact, he was all those things. How pathetic…

Prompto waking up put an abrupt end to any self-pity session before it even started. Who had time for that anyway; he had breakfast to make and a birthday party to organise.

‘Your Majesty!’

‘Lord Amicitia,’ Regis called back, his friend jogging up to him in the abandoned Citadel corridor. He made an effort to banish the seemingly ever present gloom from his features and voice. ‘What can I assist you with on this fine afternoon?’

‘Are you done for the day?’

‘There should have been a meeting with an Accordian delegate, but thankfully they asked for a re-schedule. So, hopefully yes, I’m done for the day.’

’Grand! Come on, you need a change of clothes!’ his Shield exclaimed, dragging him towards his royal suit.

‘I do what now?’

‘Regis, please, you trust me, don’t you?’

‘Why do I feel like whatever you are planning will go awry?’ Regis asked back, a private little smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

‘I don’t know what you mean, my liege,’ Clarus quipped back airily, hurrying them both down the hallway.

Half an hour later Regis found himself in the Citadel’s underground garage, in the most ridiculous outfit he probably ever wore. All right, that might be a far-fetched statement, considering what he wore that one time to the Altissian secretary’s banquet…

Still, that one pair of jeans he still owned (for some gods forsaken reason) matched with Clarus’ way too big sweater (dug out of his sports bag) and embroidered baseball cap was just overkill. Who the hell were the “Manic Marlboros” anyway…?

‘Are we going undercover as tramps?’ he asked, as his Shield started up the car.

‘Harr-harr, your Majesty. Don’t dis my sweater. Also, I think you look just fine,’ Clarus finished as he pulled into the afternoon traffic.

‘Well, definitely better than you,’ Regis joked back, his smile coming a bit easier, than an hour ago. ‘Does your daughter know that this is how you look, when you’re not rocking your courtly raiment? I would send her an incriminating picture, but I fear she would have a premature stroke at the sight.’

‘I’ll definitely tell her that you did not approve of the polo shirt that she bought me.’

‘Oh, that I have no problem with. But I’m sure she did not intend for you to wear it with those hideous pants.’

‘Which, she also chose…’ Clarus grinned.

‘You really must be related…’

‘No question about that,’ his Shield agreed, smile plastered all over his face.

Regis tried not to fall back head-first into the slump of thoughts that plagued him all day. Clarus might be missing a son, but he still had his daughter to be there for and it all made his heart shrivel in the nasty green grip of jealousy. He should know better, and he should be a better friend. He felt disgusted with himself.

‘So, where exactly are you taking me?’ he enquired, clearing his throat.

‘Surprise,’ Clarus curtly answered, eyes never leaving the road. And indeed, a surprise it was. Although Regis had an inkling as he noticed the neighbourhood they travelled through, but he could not believe that the patisserie was still in operation. He has not been here for… well, at least seven years, he assumed.

Clarus got them a cosy, secluded table by the window looking out into the smallish back-garden of the shop. Regis marvelled at all the flowers going for a last push before autumn reared its miserable head, while the Shield went to deal with their orders.

Not ten minutes later they both sat there in companionable silence, a plate and a cup in front of each of them. Well, more like a huge glass in the case of Clarus, something that looked chocolate-y and too sweet, topped with whipped cream and some ridiculous sprinkles. Regis watched, face crinkled up in disgust, as the Shield took a huge gulp.

‘How in the name of the Astrals can you drink that?’

‘It’s delicious, that’s how. And if I’m having a cheat day, I’m going to cheat like a pro. Also, I could ask you the same; you and your bitter hot leaf juice…’

‘Excuse me, this is the finest loose tea Tenebrae has to offer,’ Regis haughtily declared, taking a sip of his Fleuret Noir. Well, the _tea itself_ no longer came from Tenebrae at this point of history, but the original plants arrived in Insomnia as a courteous gift from one of the Nox Fleurets and have been cultivated here for the last gods know how many years.

‘Oh, so that’s why it still costs a small fortune?’ Clarus laughed.

‘Are you suggesting Lord Amicitia that your king does not deserve the best?’ he asked in jest, but the meaningful pause and the honest smile on his Shields face turned their banter into a completely different direction.

‘You know you do.’

Regis felt the heat climb up his neck and colour his cheeks.

‘Oh, how I hate it when you do this!’

‘No, you don’t,’ Clarus rebuffed, sipping cheekily at his drink.

‘No, I don’t,’ Regis conceded after a few moments of embarrassment. ‘But I still don’t know how to react when you get all deep and sincere and emotional.’

‘I know,’ the Shield grinned into his glass and emptied it almost halfway.

‘You are such an arse…’ Regis muttered.

‘How is the cake?’

‘It’s exquisite. I cannot believe they still make this. I cannot believe you remembered…’

‘As your friend, I ought to think it’s not that much of a surprise that I know what you like,’ Clarus noted.

Regis took a few bashful bites. At least he could pretend to be fascinated with the bits of tart on his plate, not to mention it was commonly judged as rude to talk with one’s mouth full. Clarus let him, nibbling at his own surely way too sweet sponge cake roll.

‘You know,’ he finally said, still not looking up from the table, ’you could have just bought me a bottle of Elder Coeurl.’

‘I think we have had enough depressing drinks for the next three years, Regis.’

Silence reigned once again, as they both busied themselves with their beverages. Regis knew very well what day it was and why Clarus tried his very best to distract him. He has been aware of the upcoming birthday of his son for weeks now, dreading the day. Thinking about how he might look now, what he might be doing, how his life was… at times it was unbearable.

‘Clarus, I–‘

‘Regis,’ he stopped him, his warm palm a steadying presence over his left hand. ‘You don’t… you don’t have to talk about it. But if you want to, I’m here. I’ll always be here for you.’

‘That’s a bold promise, Clarus.’

‘I’m all for bold things Regis,’ the Shield beamed at him. ‘How about a shitty movie after this?’

‘Are you planning on continuing this charade until somebody recognises us?’

‘Pretty much,’ he laughed and stuffed the last of his roll into his mouth. ‘So, movie?’

‘It would be my pleasure, my friend.’

Ignis was glad they got needled into spending Noctis’ birthday at the chocobo post. It was certainly preferable to spending the day cooped up with Gladio, trying to avoid each other as much as possible after their incident that morning and then awkwardly trying to have a birthday dinner.

At least this way the boys had real fun, Wiz and Yolanda both doting on them whenever they had a free moment. Gladio switched into “bored dad mode”, as Ignis liked to call it when the Shield posed the boys in the stupidest ways, taking pictures with his camera. He particularly liked the one of the sleeping Prompto with his hair going every which way, a forest of gyhsal greens around him in the cot. He couldn’t help but snicker at the sight, and Gladio grinned at him in that honest, happy way Ignis got used to, but it only held for moment then all the unresolved tension and awkwardness slithered back between them. Ignis quickly left him to his photos.

Noctis was busy babbling at Yolanda as he practiced to stand on wobbly legs while she held him by his chubby little hands.

It was a bit hard to believe almost a year has passed since the disastrous ceremony. Sometimes it felt like it has been only a week. Sometimes Ignis felt like he was in some kind of limbo, never getting free. He could not let these kind of thoughts roam free lest he went mad. Instead he took a breath and went off to find Wiz. Maybe he had something for him to do until the number of visiting tourist thinned and they could have dinner together.

Later he joined Yolanda in the kitchen, preparing their meal, chatting idly about this and that. Ignis found it more and more easy to act as if nothing was amiss as the day passed. The dinner was a happy affair, except for trying to feed Noctis. Gladio tried his best getting the mush into the prince’s mouth which was a feat even as he was sat in his highchair, let alone when you were trying to hold him in your lap, as the Shield was now. Oh, and he was getting picky.

There was no silent moment at the table, Wiz telling some boisterous story and Yolanda insisting on making them eat ‘just a bit more’. Prompto in her lap obliged happily.

They had cake, Noctis gleefully laughing when they sat it in front of him trying to push his fingers into it, because it was obviously his and he was entitled to mushing it to death. Gladio prevented it by holding his hands as he helped the prince blow the candle out, Ignis snapping a picture of their puckered up faces.

The slice placed in front of Noctis got all over the place and not much went into his mouth, but Ignis left him to it, as he seemed to be trying so hard.

Prompto looked like he could fall asleep any minute on Yolanda’s shoulder by the time Gladio helped the birthday boy unwrap his presents.

Unwrap was a strong word for what was going on at the table, paper flying everywhere, but the Shield showed him every piece they uncovered, explaining Noctis what each item was.

Then Wiz stepped up to Noctis with a nicely wrapped gift of their own.

‘See, Yo, I told ya they would buy all practical junk!’ he grinned at his wife over the table.

‘Yes, yes, darling, you are a genius, just give it to Noctis already,’ Yolanda directed with a big smile.

Gladio set on helping him rip the paper off of what turned out to be a black chocobo plush, almost Noctis’ size.

‘Just a word of advice boys, kids don’t hate nuthin’ more than getting stuff y’all would buy them anyway. Maybe keep it in mind for the next occasion,’ Wiz suggested as he cut himself another piece of cake, blatantly ignoring his wife’s lifted eyebrows.

Well, Ignis wouldn’t really know, because that’s the kind of present he ever got, but filed the information away for later anyway.

‘Noted,’ Gladio piped in, following the postmaster’s example by getting a slice for himself. ‘Thank you for everything. Again.’

‘Yes, you are more than generous every time you invite us over, I do not know how we can repay you,’ Ignis added.

‘Oh, shush now, you liven up this place and help us out when needed. Also, I can look at these cuties when you come over,’ Yolanda giggled at the boy in her arm, ruffling Prompto’s tufts. ‘Come Ignis, help me set up the living room for you guys. Darling, when yous two are finished stuffing your faces, please clean up this mess!’

And with that she was gone, Ignis jogging after her.

‘We really do not want to impose–’ he tried to excuse themselves with little success.

‘Nonsense, it’s getting late and the caravans are all occupied. No need to ride around this close to the nightfall.’

Ignis thanked her. Although he was really not thrilled with the idea of spending the night with his fake-husband. He just wanted to get home and maybe sleep on the couch, or even puttering about in the kitchen would have been preferable, but it was not worth risking the trip home.

So, he dutifully followed Yolanda’s every command and set up the sofa-bed as she put Prompto down to sleep.

‘There, it wasn’t so hard now, was it?’ she grinned at Ignis when all was done. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I have a birthday boy to kidnap and you can enjoy a free evenin’ with your man! Isn’t that just great!’ she enthused, clapping Ignis on the back heartily. The adviser thought he might cough up his lungs from the sheer force of it.

For a moment, Ignis entertained the thought of going to bed early, but turning in at seven in the evening would have surely brought up unnecessary questions. Than he paled at the thought of faking a lovely evening with “his man”. What was there to do? Either that, or he could listen to their hosts’ marriage advice if they got wind of them not getting along all that greatly. That option was even less desirable, than spending time with the Shield.

He stopped by the kiosk and armed himself with two root-beers. They could come in handy either as a peace offering or, worst case scenario, drinking quietly together was still less unappealing then sitting in awkward silence.

The blood orange rays of the setting sun shimmered in the rapidly cooling air. Hot summer days aside, it was palpable that autumn was right around the corner. The woods smelled different day by day. He never really experienced this back home, the breeze in Insomnia usually brought the same odours of a big city day in, day out, no matter the season. Ignis always found olfactory memory remarkable. He wondered what kind of memories he will have of this day, come next year.

He stayed there by the post, back to the aged brick wall eyes glued to the horizon without really looking, unwelcome thoughts spiralling out of control. Ach, how he despised being melancholy!

It was time to act. He murmured a plea to all the Astrals listening to find the Shield in an amiable mood and set off to find Gladio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this still "M"? Or "E"? How you rate? ლ(‘◉⌓◉’ლ)  
> Okay, update: amiyade said I should put it up to "E", so now it is "E". Now then, how you tag...?
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, see you next week (hopefully)!  
> And as always, hit me up on [tumblr](http://nightxshade.tumblr.com/) if you feel like it!  
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get from bad to downright shit, something's going down in Lestallum and there is an intervention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!!!!
> 
> I promised myself that hectic, shitty life or not, I WILL post on this day. So behold the newest chapter and enjoy!  
> .+:｡(ﾉ･ω･)ﾉﾞ 
> 
> P.S.: ~~so, yeah, there was no time to send it to my lovely beta-reader, but that will be amended at some point.~~  
>  now beta'd, thank you amiyade!! And thanks my dear readers for bearing with me!

 

Wiz wiped at his sweating brow, hat in hand. He rarely has seen this kind of heat wave ever since they moved here to Duscae. First weekend of September and look at this; sun up and shining, barely any clouds in the sky and birds chirping around in the trees.

The door Gladio asked him to look at was not in such a bad shape as the young man thought. It definitely needed some planing and sanding, and a good coating of flax oil before re-painting, which would have been all fine and dandy, but not really an option to stay out here in the middle of nowhere without a front door.

So Wiz very generously offered to install a new one instead. He could not in good conscience leave them like this. He also thought to himself, well, one problem less for them. The boys might have thought they were clever about it, but the wife and he himself could see how things have been tense between them lately.

He contemplated bringing it up, but did not want to be _that_ guy, who unnecessarily stuck his nose into other people’s affairs and gave unwanted advice. Suddenly moving out here and having to care for two babies must have been a strain on their relationship, but Wiz was sure the boys would sort it out eventually.

He said to himself, Wiz, helping them where you can, is the way to go. Lift the weight a bit and just see how things go. So he tinkered away at the door, whistling under his nose. Appetising smells wafted out the kitchen window, promising a nice lunch. Well, Ignis seemed like a man who knew his way around a stove, so he never really had to worry about eating some garbage whenever he came over.

He was busy measuring the doorframe when the shouting started. At first there were only raised voices coming from inside; peppered with even louder hushes, but then it quickly turned into a storm of accusations. Wiz sighed as he scribbled the numbers down onto a small pad, walking back to implement the measurements. He was about to cut a piece off to size, when the boys got _loud_.

It was time for an intervention, then.

  

‘And, oh pray tell what does that have to do with anything!?’

‘Sorry, I thought we were bringing up unnecessary and insignificant **shit** for no good reason?’

‘Ah, so this is how you want to play it?’

‘Me?! You started it; throwing stupid shit in my face!’

‘Oh, it’s stupid now that I’ll have to start lunch from scratch, because you are unable to watch a bloody pot for _TWO BLOODY MINUTES_!’

‘I WAS watching it!!’

‘Then how did it–‘

‘Boys, boys!! What the shit’s gotten into ya, seriously!’ Wiz cried out as he arrived in the kitchen and stepped between Gladio and Ignis.

‘Nothing,’ they chorused; both looking away, arms crossed, like some sulking five year olds.

‘Yeah, sure,’ Wiz conceded, shutting off the stove. ‘Look, I did not want to butt into this whole situation, but this is just ridiculous now. Could you please at least try to talk it out or somethin’?’

‘I don’t think there is anythin’ to talk about,’ Gladio growled.

‘You never do,’ Ignis sneered back, suddenly very interested in his tea towel.

‘What does that even mean, like I’m not e–‘

‘That’s it, enough. See, that’s what I’m talkin’ about; _this_ won’t go anywhere. Time out,’ Wiz announced. ‘Gladio, come help me with the door, you could use some fresh air.’

Gladio grumbled something, then trudged out the kitchen.

‘I have to apologise, Wiz. I’m most sorry you had to witness this,’ Ignis said, eyes on the floor. The post master felt a bit sorry for him. All the works with the house, two baby boys and a hot headed man to boot. Ignis had his work cut out.

‘If ya think this is my first chocobo ride, then you’re pretty far off the mark, m’ boy,’ Wiz said with a cautious smile, clapping Ignis on the shoulder. ‘Happens with the best of us; don’t ya worry about it. Just try to sit him down and talk. It’ll work out.’

At least Wiz really hoped so.

 

It did not; work out that is. They tried talking, but Gladio knew that no amount of talking would help _his_ problem. He did not know what crawled up Ignis’ ass and died, making him an insufferable, quality a-hole, but talking did not help that either.

So they were stuck in this awkward situation, where they had trouble being civil with each other, let alone posture as a happily married couple. Gladio found some semblance of solace in upping his training regime; Ignis in being up at all hours and doing gods know what in the kitchen. Oh, and cleaning; the house was never tidier.

Ignis did his best to avoid Gladio and especially avoid sharing the bed with him. He either stayed up, or slept on the couch and frankly, Gladio missed it. He missed Ignis’ body heat at his back and he missed waking up cuddling him (however accidental that has been…well, in most cases…). He missed talking, he missed having not-excruciatingly-uncomfortable meals, he missed sparring…

Gladio scoffed, he was sure Ignis would go for the kill if they were to practice now, and frankly, he might just slap the adviser down, given the chance. So there was a firm mental ban on training together, but Gladio’s hands itched for a good fight.

And that’s how he found himself in the kitchen in the wee hours of the morning. They must have just missed each other with Ignis, going by the still warm pan of fruit bread (was it fruit bread? Gladio was not sure). Although where he was, remained a mystery. He did not come to bed and the sofa was empty.

So there was nothing to stop Gladio from fidgeting around the kitchen, nobody to take the crumbled up wanted-poster that has been stuffed in the back of a drawer out of his hands, and certainly no one to stop him from stuffing a few things into his bag, scribble a note and be gone by the time the sun was properly up.

 

‘–I mean; how could he do this to me? Especially when I specifically asked him _not_ to do it?! I understand that our current situation is not…all sunshine and rainbows, but rushing off on some hunt on a whim– he never hunted before in his life, gods! I don’t think he has ever seen any live wild animals at all! Chocobos don’t count, before you mention them–’

Neither Wiz, nor Yolanda wanted to mention anything; they just sat there on the veranda of the chocobo post, Noctis and Prompto in their laps as they listened to Ignis rant and pace up and down.

‘– not to mention, he doesn’t even own a gun! Or knows how to use one! What is he going to do, stab them to death with his great-sword? Gods, oh gods–’

Yolanda and Wiz just looked at each other, communicating silently with head gestures and eyebrows. They were good at that. It was clear some kind of intervention was in order, but they needed to actually use their words for organising that.

‘Darling, I’m sure the other hunters will take good care of a newbie like him. They are a responsible bunch,’ Yolanda soothed. ‘Let him live a little.’

‘Live? It’s not like he is some imprisoned damsel! He is free to do what he wants; I’m not his bloody keeper for crying out loud! Did I say something when he was gallivanting about in Lestallum, getting his tattoo done? No. It would have been contradictory anyways, as I myself bought the appointments, I know how much it means to him–’

The Forlanes tuned out the detailed list of what Gladio was “allowed to do”. Let the young man let out some steam, they thought, looking at each other with raised brows.

‘– and if he comes back in one piece, I’ll kill him with my own hands,’ Ignis finished with a loud growl. Must have been the last straw for the boys, because Prompto started to cry. Ignis rushed to pick him off of Yolanda’s hands. ‘Prompto, it’s all right, I am sorry!’

Noctis looked at the happenings with a face that said somebody just killed his puppy dog, but at least he was not crying. Yet.

Ignis started to look like he might just do it in his stead.

‘All right, all right,’ Ignis said, combing his fingers through the golden locks. ‘I’ll sort this out, I promise. Everything’s going to be fine.’

He looked deep in thought for a second, rocking Prompto, then he went down on one knee on the veranda to be at eye level with both boys.

‘I have some things to do, so how about you boys stay here with Wiz and Yolanda,’ he looked pleading at the Forlanes, ‘and Gladio and I will get you in the morning, all right? Prompto, please don’t cry, it will be fun!’

‘No problem darling, y’all do what ya have to. Even if they make a fuss now, they will appreciate if yous two finally make up, right Noctis?’ Yolanda cooed, taking over the sulking boy from his husband and blowing a raspberry onto his stomach. It never failed to make Noctis giggle.

‘My thoughts exactly, y’all need some time out. The boys will be fine. Right lads? We will have some good fun with the birdies here while your dads sort themselves out,’ Wiz enthused, taking and lifting Prompto up over his head for the boy’s greatest joy.

Well, Ignis could live without having to confront his partner about this whole pickle they were in, but this was not about them anymore. It was anything but fair on the boys and he owed them this much at least. He just needed to get Gladio alone, without any distractions nearby and come to a truce somehow. He was not sure about the how, but he had a whole chocobo ride to come up with a plan.

  

As it turned out, Ignis not only had the ride home to (over)think things, but the whole night as well. He should have enjoyed the children-free time he had, but by sundown, he was almost vibrating out of his skin with anxiety. By midnight, he was near damn well hysterical.

There was not much to do, since he spent the last two weeks cleaning and tidying and organising; yet, he found himself scrubbing furiously at the floor at one in the morning; eyes going back to the note on the fridge unwillingly, again and again.

“WENT TO HUNTER HQ, I’LL BE BACK BY SUNSET – GLADIO”, it simply said. The sun has long set and yet, Gladio did not return. Ignis really hoped he had sense enough to stay wherever he got stuck; he hoped Gladio was safe and in one piece.

He had to hush the small, irrational voices in his head, saying the hunt might have gone south and Gladio was lying hurt -or worse, dead- somewhere in the woods. Some of those voices said he might be gone for good; that the Shield ran away with some charming person he met in Lestallum and the note on the fridge was just a big fat lie.

Would explain all the weird behaviour of the past weeks, Ignis sourly thought to himself. He could see Gladio’s distant silence as plotting when best to flee this place and all these responsibilities, but he knew these voices were all nasty accusations of his tired and worried mind. Gladio would rather die than abandon his duty; so now that was the only thing Ignis had to worry about. Gladio dying.

That was a thought he did _not_ want to entertain. Even now he felt like he could be sick any given second just by the imagined loss. He could not picture a future without Gladio, and that was another line of thought that scared the living soul out of him.

Why did he have to fall for the Shield? When would this agony pass? Surely this pain in his chest could not hold out forever, otherwise he might just go berserk. He entertained giving Gladio’s advice a go on some nights, when the closeness of their bodies threatened to drive Ignis mad. He could just go out and bed someone for the night. Maybe then some of this harrowing pain would go away…but he did not want to sleep with just anyone. He wanted Gladio; he wanted to kiss and cuddle him, he wanted to be able to hold his hand, he wanted to press him up against the bathroom door, he wanted to–

He wanted too many things, none of which Gladio would be willing to give.

He stopped, only now realising that he has been walking up and down the kitchen floor. The clock on the stove said 2:54. He should have gone to sleep a long time ago, but he just could not. How could he hope for some blessed unconsciousness in his worked up state? He needed to do something. That’s how, instead of lying awake on either the sofa or their bed (“their”, and wasn’t that a joke?) he checked the cupboards for ingredients. Maybe a nice chiffon cake was the way to go?

Ignis immediately pictured the two of them, sitting by the table in the faint rays of the autumn sun, chiffon cake and steaming mugs of coffee on the table; smiling, chatting…Then that image got disrupted by another: the both of them at the chocobo post, on Noctis’ birthday eve.

Ignis finally found Gladio sitting on an outcrop that night, still close enough to the industrial lights to be safe, yet far enough from the patrons to be private. The Shield was not really forthcoming, grunting here and there to Ignis’ attempts at small talk and staring out at the darkening wilderness. He took the root-beer with a quick lift of the corner of his mouth and a muttered ‘thanks’.

Ignis made two more attempts at engaging Gladio, but when no reply came, he decided to stay silent as well. He tried everything he could and was too tired of this whole situation to do any more.

So they sat there beside each other, sipping their beers and watching the hills disappear under them into the tar-like blackness of the night. It felt so…final; like a seal, cementing their relationships into this awkward and twisted co-habitation, erasing everything they had before. Ignis wanted to howl from the pain of it.

Then Gladio’s hoodie was draped over his shoulder and the hood placed on his head with a pat. Ignis only then noted, that he sat there shivering, like some romantic heroine.

‘You seemed cold,’ was all Gladio said before turning back around.

Ignis’ uttered ‘thank you’ was the last thing said that night.

He could still smell Gladio’s scent and his stupid aftershave, if he concentrated hard enough on remembering.

By 6:12 the darkness outside started to dissipate and there were three different cakes on the kitchen counter and Ignis felt like dropping dead. By half eight he was ready to remodel the whole kitchen, he needed something to do that badly. By nine he wished that somebody would just waltz in here and end his sufferings, preferably with a headshot. By nearly ten he only had the strength to lie face down on the dining table and contemplate how pitiful on a one-to-ten scale it would be, if he started to sob.

Then he heard a key being turned in the lock and his name being called very tentatively.

Ignis jumped from his chair, letting it fall to the floor with a loud clatter as he all but dashed out of the kitchen, swerved around the corner and flung himself at Gladio, arms a vice around the Shield’s neck.

‘Ignis–?’ Gladio’s bag slipped from his fingers and soon Ignis found himself embraced in return. They stood there in the foyer, entwined, Gladio blinking nervously this way and that over the top of adviser’s head. As suddenly as Ignis jumped him, the adviser stepped back.

‘What the bloody hell were you thinking you arse?!’ he asked, enunciating his words with a fist slamming into Gladio’s chest repeatedly. Even Ignis seemed surprised by this unusual course of action, let alone the Shield who just stood there with a stupidly shocked face. Warm fingers encircled his wrist and a palm came up to Ignis’ cheek.

‘Ignis, I’m sorry, alright, I didn’t want to– please stop crying,’ Gladio pleaded, expression genuinely repentant. Now it was Ignis’ turn to look dumbfounded; he could not possibly be crying, could he? Then he felt the hot wet streaks making their way down his face and that made him cry only harder.

‘You stupid, selfish– PRICK! I was out of my mind with worry! Leaving a stupid note? Seriously? And going out on a hunt when asked you NOT to?!’ Ignis fumed on, uncaring for the tears sliding down his skin, or for Gladio’s thumb on his face. ‘Something could have happened out there and I would never know! Have you thought about what you were doing to me? When you did not come back last night I thought– I thought–!’

Ignis couldn’t possibly finish the sentence he started and not only because he was not mentally prepared to say it, but because there was a hand on the back of his head in addition to the one stroking his face and a blink later Gladio’s lips smashed into his.

This kiss was nothing like the one they shared under that stupid gyhsal green on New Year’s Eve. It was not chaste and it was not subtle; it was all lips and teeth and pent up aggression, Gladio’s tongue licking into his mouth. In a moment of madness Ignis kissed him back, trying to give as good as he got, backing the Shield up to the wall, fists in his shirt.

Clarity came back in the blink of an eye, and Ignis let go of Gladio as if he was made of hot, red coal. He couldn’t help but bring a palm up in front of his lips, as if that would somehow make the fact that they just kissed void. Ignis wished it was null, this shouldn’t have happened and he definitely should not have lost his composure. Kissing back, what was he thinking?

Gladio started it, but Ignis could not fathom for what reason he would do it. Pity? To shut him up? Make him stop crying? Neither option sat well with him.

‘Stop playing me for a fool, Gladiolus,’ he cautioned. Gladio opened his mouth, hand poised to touch, but the shrill sound of a knock on their front door halted him. Ignis rushed past him, scrubbing at his tear streaked cheeks furiously and all but wrenched the door open.

‘Oh, Wiz! Good morning,’ he greeted, his voice hesitant. ‘We were just about to go and get the boys,’ he lied.

‘No, ya’re about to pack your overnight bag, son,’ Wiz corrected.

‘Pardon me?’

‘Y’all need a holiday, if ya ask me. So the wife and me, we elected ourselves for babysitting duty for the weekend.’

‘Wiz, come on–’ Gladio tried, but was shut down quickly.

‘No, I’m sorry boys, but this is not really a request. Yo and I tried to keep our neighbourly noses out of your business, but to be honest…’ Wiz nervously scratched at his neck. ‘Alright, Imma sound like a sentimental sap, but y’all kinda grew on us. We couldn’t just do nothing.’ When neither Gladio nor Ignis reacted to that, he continued.

‘It’s a bit of a short notice, but I know a guy, who knows a guy, so we even managed to secure you a room at the Leville in Lestallum,’ the post-master grinned at them.

Ignis did not really understand what was going on. Thankfully, Gladio had the same gaping fish visage, so at least he was not alone.

‘We cannot possibly impo–‘

‘Ignis, let me just stop ya right there. Ya two have worked harder since I’ve known you, than some of the men I’ve known for years; but this?’ he noted, finger pointed at them, wagging back and forth, ‘this ain’t gonna sail in the long run, believe me. So please do us all a favour and have a bit of time for yourselves. No children, no chores, just, have fun, take care of each other while we take care of the lil’ ones for you,’ he finished, clapping the both of them on the shoulder, grin as wide as ever.

He deemed the duo to be sufficiently shell-shocked, so he continued.

‘Just pack me some clothes for the boys and we don’t wanna see y’all until Monday, understood?’

Gladio and Ignis could only nod in tandem like scolded schoolboys, before they rushed off to pack for Noctis and Prompto. Gladio got some clothes and toys together, while Ignis packed up the cakes he made. No use wasting them away here over the weekend, and at least he could contribute to the boys’ stay.

They loaded everything onto Wiz’s chocobo and stood there on the porch, their faces still frozen in the picture of disbelief as they waved at the post-master’s retreating back.

‘So…’ Gladio hesitated, ‘to Lestallum then?’

‘Apparently…’ Ignis sighed.

  

Gladio tried on one whole account to bring up their forced holiday or their kiss throughout the trip, but Ignis shot him down with such an icy stare that even the Glacian herself would have envied it. The barked out ‘Don’t even start!’ made Gladio re-think all his life choices.

He didn’t know what that whole hot-and-cold act was supposed to be, but Ignis kissed him back! So maybe, just maybe Gladio’s crush wasn’t so one-sided after all? If Ignis felt even the tiniest something for him, then shouldn’t they talk about that?

Perhaps it was nothing, but a weird way for Ignis to let out all the frustration Gladio caused him? Just the adrenaline trying to find a viable outlet?

Gladio had too many questions and little to no answers. It did not matter; he had a plan to set in motion once they reached the Leville. Take Ignis out for a nice dinner, apologise properly for going on the hunt, have a few drinks and once they were back at the hotel…well, all cards on the table. He wanted Ignis to understand– no, he needed Ignis to understand why he has been behaving the way he did, he needed to tell him how he felt whenever the adviser deemed him worthy to smile at. He had to tell Ignis his reasons for going on that stupid hunt and he really, really needed Ignis to forgive him.

If all that would accomplish, that Gladio could call Ignis his friend again, he would go home a happy man.

To do that he needed Ignis to talk to him in peace and quiet. Shouldn’t be too hard...

 

Lestallum was neither peaceful, nor quiet.

Every square inch of the city was packed with people; the high street closed down for the traffic, its sides littered with a myriad of food stalls and pop-up bars. The first pub one bumped into when coming to the city from the east was now decorated in all manners of neon, mostly that electric blue of the meteor-shards the EXINERIS plant used, its chairs and tables taking up half the street now. The buildings of Lestallum all seemed to glow with this unusual choice of decoration, residential and commercial buildings alike. The flowing throng of people seemed to brandish neon accessories as well as blinding flower crowns (if you took “flowers” in the loosest sense of the word), making them look like a group of shimmering fish from the distance. Apparently, neither alcoholic beverages, nor booming music were in shortage all throughout the city.

The masses formed an unbreachable maze; Gladio and Ignis had to resort to leading their chocobos to the stalls on foot, going through abandoned allies and small passage ways.

‘What is happening here?’ Ignis confusedly asked.

‘I have absolutely no clue…’

 

‘Oh, my favourite dads! Hi!’ the concierge, Ana, greeted them with a grin and a wave as they stepped up to the front desk. She seemed to be just as energetic as the first time they met, when she saved them from Ignis killing that lacklustre receptionist. ‘I hope you have reserved, because we are booked full for the whole weekend.’

‘Our friend did; should be under Forlane,’ Gladio answered leaning on the desk and smiling in that charming way of his. ‘What is this asylum outside?’

‘The annual Meteor-party?’ Ana asked back deadpan. ‘What are you doing here, if you don’t know what weekend it is?’

‘Long story,’ Gladio briskly said. ‘So, anyway, what is this “meteor party” then?’

‘Only the longest and most epic party in the whole of Eos!’ she scoffed. ‘If you don’t count the carnival in Accordo, that is…but it’s most certainly the biggest festival in Lucis!’

‘Never heard of it, sorry.’

‘Where did you live until now, under a rock? Okay, so you know that Lestallum’s basically alive because of EXINERIS, right? And the power plant wouldn’t exist without the meteor and its shards, so like, the people of Lestallum started organising this huge festival in honour of the Meteor and the Archaean holding it up, making offerings and whatnot,’ she explained while pushing the necessary papers and a pen towards Gladio. ‘Then, like quite some years back the big guys, or more like girls,’ she winked, ‘decided that this was a nice tradition liked by locals and tourists alike. Of course, they also realised, that it could bring in even more money, if it just wasn’t as boring as it actually was. Ever since, there is a massive party every autumn, end of the story. Hope you’ve got your party pants on, because it will get craaaaazy out there,’ she sing-songed, taking the signed papers back and sliding a key to Gladio. ‘Have fun! If you need anything, just shout, I’ll be slaving here all weekend.’

They thanked her in unison as they turned towards the stairs. Silence followed them into their room. Gladio deposited his bag with a careless kick under his side of the bed. Ignis looked at him with a nasty side-eye for a second, then went to put away his own bag in a more organised fashion.

Now or never, Gladio thought scratching at his neck. He cleared his throat. Then did it again, for he just couldn’t find the words. Should he just bring up the kiss? Try to have that dreaded talk now, while they still enjoyed the privacy of their room?

‘I’m going out for lunch,’ Ignis suddenly announced, stuffing his wallet into his pocket.

‘Wha- No, Ignis wait,’ Gladio cried, fingers latching onto the adviser’s shirt sleeve. How he could bear this heat in long sleeves, Gladio would never know. Maybe he should convince the adviser to get a more varied wardrobe. It’s been almost a year now, the Shield had the feeling that they won’t be going anywhere near home anytime soon…

Ignis’ ‘Do you mind?’ brought him back from his fashion-related detour.

‘Sorry,’ he answered, quickly letting go of the shirt. ‘Don’t you think we should talk?’

‘I do not.’

The answer felt like a slap in the face. Ignis continued.

‘Frankly, I’m exhausted and I’m still bloody angry with you. So, no, I don’t think we should talk. At least not now…’

Gladio felt a bit lighter at that. There still might be hope to set his plan in motion. Ignis’ eyes lingered on the bandaged gash on Gladio’s left arm, but instead of commenting on it he just repeated, ‘I’ll be off, then.’

‘Can I come with?’

‘If you must…’

‘I would love to.’

‘Very well,’ Ignis sighed. Gladio did not let that deter him.

‘I’ve found a cute little place, back when I was here for my tattoo; I think you would like it!’

‘Lead the way then,’ Ignis said, motioning Gladio with a grand hand gesture out the door.

Gladio gulped. He could still save this. He had to.

 

Lunch went as well, as it was expected. Gladio tried to tell Ignis about the hunt, but Ignis firmly told him that he could not possibly listen to that at this moment. Gladio tried to lighten the mood, but it was like trying to light wet matches in a Shiva damned snow-storm. So he just shut up. The whole weekend was before them, he still had time to get everything back to the way it was.

His only victory seemed to be, that Ignis actually happened to like the small bar. Or Gladio hoped so, going by the little smiles and Ignis’ scribbling into his tiny notepad while trying out different items from the menu.

Ignis went back to the hotel after that, to finally sleep apparently. Gladio watched him disappear into the billowing crowd. The Shield had a feeling that a bit of distance could only help his case and Ignis might be amenable to talk once he was rested and not freaking out about Gladio dying somewhere in a ditch.

He had a few hours to kill, it seemed. What to do, he wondered, looking out at the masses. He decided a few drinks until then couldn’t hurt, he could do with some liquid courage. And so, off to a bar he went.

 

There was clumsy knocking on the door, out of rhythm and getting exponentially louder. Ignis swore if some drunk idiot just woke him from his well-deserved slumber early—!

He stopped in his tracks getting off the bed. It was already dark outside; the vibrating neon lights of the party danced around in the night air, occasionally flitting about the hotel room carpet and dashing over the windowpanes.

‘Oh,’ Ignis eloquently noted, rubbing his eyes. The knocking did not cease. ‘I’m coming!’ Ignis said as loudly as he dared, in the hopes of stopping whoever was banging on the door.

‘Whatever could be this impor— Gladiolus?’ Ignis incredulously noted as his partner stumbled in through the now open door, closing it with clumsy movements and turning on Ignis.

‘I want to apologe— apologise; I— have you been sleeping this whole time?’ Gladio squinted at him. His face was so close, Ignis would have had to amputate his nose not to smell the alcohol on his breath.

‘Have you been drinking this whole time?’ Ignis countered.

‘No, I’ve been chatting with people…an’ dancing! Waiting fo— for you.’

‘You are drunk Gladiolus. Have some water and go to sleep.’

‘You’re not my mo’er, and I’m, ya know that, tha’ thingy…tipsy! That’s it!’

‘Definitely drunk,’ Ignis mumbled, grabbing hold of Gladio’s arm and ducking under it. ‘Come,’ he instructed, carefully guiding them to the armchairs.

Gladio flopped down into one with a groan like a dying behemoth. Ignis never seen or heard a behemoth, especially not a dying one, but in his mind it felt like an apt description. He stepped into the microscopic kitchenette. He usually stocked some essentials whenever they stayed at the Leville, but this was not the case this time. Gladio would have to make do with some water and a good night’s sleep this time.

‘Sip it, don’t gulp it down,’ he instructed as he carefully wrapped Gladio’s fingers around the cold glass. ‘I’ll get you some painkillers.’

‘Cannot make any sense of you,’ Gladio mumbled into his water, gurgling softly.

‘No wonder, in your state,’ Ignis parried, plopping a painkiller from its foil wrapping into the Shield’s free palm. ‘Take that.’

Gladio scoffed bitterly, but did as he was told.

‘Was all this drinking necessary, Gladiolus?’ Ignis sighed.

‘Naaah— I was jus’…sad…I guess.’ He wrapped his fingers around Ignis’ delicate wrist. ‘I miss you.’

‘I’m right here Gladiolus,’ Ignis answered, getting down onto his knees in front of the armchair in his confusion.

‘No, I– you don’ understan’, I miss— I miss what we had? And I miss when I could still preten’ that I—’

Soft fingertips sealed his lips shut.

‘Gladio. Whatever it is that you have on your mind- it’s not the time to let it out. We can talk in the morning.’

‘No, I have to- Ignis, I hate this so much—’ The glass clinked on the marbled surface of the low table. Ignis did not really understand where Gladio’s drunken rambling was going.

‘This? We cannot really do much about our duties, but if you would just tell me what the problem was, then–’

There were warm palms engulfing his hands, Gladio’s callused fingers tightening slightly.

‘Ignis— let me just finish please.’ It would have been more dramatic if only he did not hiccup in the middle of it. ‘What I really wanna tell you is that–‘

What the Shield really wanted to tell him, well, that remained a mystery. It could have been ‘Out of my way!’ or perhaps, ‘You either move, or I’ll puke on you.’ Ignis thought it equally possible, that it might have been ‘Look, I’m gonna break the world record in sprinting-to-the-toilet!’

Never in his life did he feel as exhausted, then in that moment, sitting on his ass on the floor in the middle of a hotel room, listening to his partner barf his soul (and probably his entrails) out in the bathroom a door away. He flopped back onto the carpet.

After a fortifying sigh, he went to fetch a brand new glass of cold water, and a new painkiller; both sat at Gladio’s nightstand. He dug out a fresh set of clothes from the Shield’s haphazardly packed in bag. Last but not least, he dug Gladio out of the bathroom. They managed to peel Gladio out of his clothes and into some fresh ones between them. The Shield murmured nonsense all the while. Ignis wondered when he swapped in his two small sons for a single, big one…

He finally wrestled Gladio onto the mattress, bringing the duvet up to tuck him in, when the Shield spoke properly again.

‘Don’ leave… please,’ he begged and it sounded so miserable, that Ignis just had to forget all his grudges for this one night.

‘I’m not going anywhere Gladio,’ he answered in all honesty and switched off the lights.

As soon as Ignis was under the duvet, Gladio’s body slid closer to him, bringing his back flush with Ignis’ chest. Ignis sent a very brief set of choice words out to the universe and all its celestial beings for fucking with him. Then, not really left with any other options, put his arm around the already snoring Shield.

‘Good night, Gladio,’ he whispered into the dark of the night.

Gladio hummed back in his sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> I really did not want to cut the chapter here, but ey, time ran out, what can you do.....  
> See you soon, and as usual, thank you so much for sticking around and reading!  
> Love you all!


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